


The Shifu

by tsuki_llama



Series: The Office [17]
Category: Darker Than Black
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family Drama, Long Lost Relatives, So much angst, Wedding Planning, there may be tears
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-05-24 00:02:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 61,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14943836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuki_llama/pseuds/tsuki_llama
Summary: The Office #15. Despite finally coming to terms with his past and finding a role for himself within Section Four, Hei can't quite bring himself to face the family that he left behind in China so many years ago. However, impending wedding plans may force him to make a decision sooner than he'd like.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: I've started to write out Hei's backstory in my work Into the Dark Night; I consider that a prequel for both the Distractions and Office series, so be sure to read that for more background on Hei's family and his life before the Syndicate!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, quick note because I hadn't realized this would be confusing - sometimes I forget that you all don't live in my head with me. In the Office series, Hei has *not* met Jiao-tu; that only happens in the Distractions universe. The two series are not related at all, except they share my pre-season one headcanon/backstory. Hope that helps!

“What do you think of this?” Misaki asked.

“Hm?” Hei didn’t immediately turn from the television; one chef in the competition show was using a technique that he’d never seen before to fillet a fish, and he wanted to catch the whole process. Instead, he gave Misaki’s knee a squeeze to let her know that he was in fact listening.

They were both camped out on their new sofa, Misaki comfortably ensconced in the corner with her laptop in her lap and her legs stretched out across Hei’s lap.

They’d decided on the sofa together, something which Hei was still proud of himself for. After spending hours in half a dozen furniture stores, looking at dozens of more or less the same design, his interest had definitely started to flag. He _wanted_ to be part of the decision, to do something so simple and normal together with Misaki, but he honestly didn’t understand why she hadn’t agreed on the first model they’d looked at. Hei had thought it was fine.

As Misaki and the salesman discussed the finer points of two sofas that were virtually identical - even the prices were close enough that that couldn’t be used as the deciding factor - Hei wandered over to a bright yellow one across the aisle that had caught his eye and sat down. _Sank_ down was more like it - the cushions were soft and deep.

It was by far the most comfortable sofa he’d tried out thus far. So comfortable, in fact, that he felt like he could take a nap right that moment. In a crowded public space, no less. Even better, he could easily imagine himself and Misaki spending each evening snuggled up together on it.

“You can’t be serious.”

Hei opened his eyes - when had he closed them? - to see Misaki gazing down at him, her arms folded.

“What? I like this one.”

She frowned. “It looks awfully…soft. You know I like firm cushions.”

“I know you like to deny yourself any reason to relax, so that you feel less guilty about working in your downtime.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it again. “Sometimes I hate that you know me so well,” she muttered at last; but Hei could see the smile just brushing her lips.

“Just try it.” He patted the seat beside him. With obvious reluctance, Misaki sat.

“Oh. Wow. It is really comfy…” She leaned back against the cushions. “But I’d never be able to get any work done like this.”

“You usually end up sitting on the floor anyway.”

She pursed her lips and ran her hand along the edge of the seat cushion, her ring glittering in the bright lights of the store. “That’s true. This color is awful, though.”

Hei actually kind of liked it. It was…cheerful. He’d never had a home that _looked_ as if its occupants were happy to live there. Not since he’d left Xi’an, anyway.

Still, he knew better than to push his luck. Compromise, as his therapist would tell him. “I’m sure it comes in other colors,” he said.

It did, in fact, come in a charcoal fabric that Misaki fell in love with; and a few days later, it was delivered to their apartment.

“Hei.” Misaki nudged him with her foot.

“Hm?” Hei said again, turning down the volume of the TV. He didn’t have a knife exactly like the one the chef was using, but he did have something that might work…

Misaki had turned her laptop so that screen was facing him. On the display was a lush garden with sculpted paths meandering through beds of colorful flowers.

Hei frowned in confusion. “A temple? I thought you were working on your proposal for the police summit.”

“I was - then I decided it’s as good as it’s going to get, considering I have to present it at the retreat tomorrow. Now I’m working on _your_ proposal.” She playfully poked his ribs with her toe.

He caught her foot, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Oh. For the ceremony, you mean? Sure; it’s pretty.”

“Yeah, it is; especially in June. My mom used to take me to this one on all the holidays.”

It wasn’t the same place where her mother’s ashes had been interred, Hei could tell. For a moment he wondered why Misaki wouldn’t want to go to _that_ temple, the way she visited every year and talked as if her mother could hear her; but then he was pretty sure he knew why.

“It looks perfect,” he said. “I wish your mom could be here, to see you get married.”

Misaki closed her laptop with a sigh; setting it on the coffee table, she curled up next to Hei. “Yeah,” she said. “Me too.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close.

They sat like that for a long moment, Hei simply enjoying being close to her, breathing in the scent of her. Then she said, “June _is_ still okay with you, right?”

He kissed her cheek. “Of course. You know I wouldn’t mind if we stayed engaged for a year or two, if that’s what you want. Or I’d go to the courthouse with you tomorrow - I’d drag a justice out of bed at knife point tonight if you said you didn’t want to wait. June is fine.”

Misaki snorted. “Kidnapping a government official for a midnight elopement sort of defeats the purpose of having a traditional ceremony - which was _your_ idea, remember? I just meant…” she trailed off, seeming to grasp for words. “It’s already March. June doesn’t give you that much time to call your family to invite them, and still give them time to plan a trip out here, if that’s what they want to do.”

The thought of reaching out to the family he’d left behind in Xi’an after Xing had killed their parents no longer set him on the verge of a panic attack - he’d been spending a _lot_ of time thinking about it lately, partly to inure himself to the fear, and partly because, well, the more he thought about it, the more he began to see a way forward to contacting them.

He knew Misaki’s opinion - a wedding was the perfect reason to do it. That felt too awkward to Hei though. What was he supposed to do, send them an invitation that said _Please travel to a foreign country for my wedding - and PS I_ _’m not dead_? But then how was he supposed to talk to them _without_ mentioning his engagement?

“I don’t know yet,” he confessed. “And I don’t think I’ll be able to decide any time soon. We might as well make plans without worrying about that.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” She paused; Hei waited. “It’s just, I know how important your family is to you, and how much you want to see them again; so I know you’re _going_ to contact them eventually regardless of how freaked out it makes you feel. It’s just a matter of when. So I think you might as well save yourself all that time and worry, and just do it now.”

Hei smiled. Misaki would always take the most practical approach to a problem, no matter what it was; she was much more like a contractor in that sense than he ever was. “Still…I don’t think I can. Not yet.” Not until that feeling of dread had fully left the pit of his stomach.

“Alright. There’s no need to rush into the decision, if you’re not comfortable with it yet; let’s stick with June.”

If Hei didn’t already love her, he would for that alone. “Actually, I was thinking…maybe we could go visit Xi’an after the wedding. Like a honeymoon - or maybe a vacation, later on. I’d like you to see the city.”

“And maybe see if any of your family are still in the area, without being committed to letting them know _we_ are?” She arched an eyebrow. “So, a recon mission.”

Hei opened his mouth, then closed it again. ““You know me too well,” he admitted at last.

Misaki laughed and snuggled closer. “Well I should hope so. I’d like to see the place where you grew up, even if we don’t meet your family. Could we go to that town in the mountains - what was its name?”

“Zhangjiaping.”

“ _Zhang jia ping_ ,” Misaki repeated carefully. She’d been working hard on her Mandarin in the last few months; she could mostly understand what Hei said to her now, if he spoke slowly. Understanding _her_ was still mostly guesswork on his part; her accent needed a lot of work. Still, he was proud of her for the progress she’d made.

“Yeah, we could go there. I don’t know if my dad’s house is still there…if it stayed in the family or not. He didn’t have any living relatives, so I guess it passed to Mom’s family? We can visit the lake at least.”

He’d like that more than seeing Xi’an, he thought. It would be far more painful - so many of his childhood memories were tied too tightly to that place - but they’d been _happy_ memories. There was a peace there in the woods by the lake that he’d never known anywhere else. He’d love for Misaki to experience it.

Assuming everything was still the same as it had been twelve years ago, of course.

“Is that where you got this?” Misaki reached up and lightly touched the small, faint scar just above his left eyebrow, the tip of which nearly met the longer, still-raw one from the night he’d proposed to her. He’d only gotten the stitches from that out a few days ago. “You said it was from a ‘childhood idiocy’.”

“I did?”

She laughed, but there was a slight edge to it now. “I asked you about it at the hospital - guess you lost that question to the concussion.”

“Oh. Yeah. I mean, yeah I don’t remember you asking - but also, yeah, I was a total idiot when I was ten. But it was Jiang’s fault.”

“Your cousin?”

Hei nodded, a smile forming on his lips from the memory. “We’d saved a bunch of those little _baozhu_ \- um, firecrackers from the New Year’s festivals to shoot off at the lake that spring. Well, ‘shoot off’ isn’t right, exactly…”

The four of them - Hei, Xing, and their cousins Jiang and Jiao-tu - had told their parents that they were going to go explore the sunny woods for a while before dinner. Father, Grandfather, and Uncle were all fishing down at the lake, which left Aunt and Grandmother fret over the possibility of snakes in the rocks until Mother waved the kids off with a laugh and a strict admonition to be back before dark and not do anything too stupid - that last with a significant look at both boys.

“And watch out for your sister, Tian,” she added. For in that time, he _had_ been a completely different person, still deserving of the name that his parents had given him.

“I will!” Tian _always_ watched out for Xing; Mother didn’t need to ask.

Tian and Jiang had headed straight for the small clearing at the top of a hill about a half mile behind the house that they had discovered the previous year. Xing and Jiao-tu followed, Xing skipping happily and picking small white flowers along the way, Jiao-tu tripping over just about every small stone or root she came across.

“Okay, how many did everyone save from the festival?” Jiang asked them all once they’d reached the clearing. A huge pine had stood there once; some storm or other had thrown it down, leaving a rotting log a few feet away from a large pit where the rootball had been. Aside from the dead tree, the clearing was bare of all but grass and weeds.

Jiang pulled two strands of _baozhu_ , little red bamboo cylinders tied on either side of central string, from his pockets and dropped them on the log. “Tian, what about you?”

Tian set down his small rucksack and pulled out six strands, setting them next to Jiang’s.

His cousin gave a low whistle. “How’d you manage to get so many? Grandfather only gave us three each!”

Tian shrugged. “Mom’s hospital had a lunchtime festival for the patients that we went to. They were giving all the kids one…so I just got back in line a couple times and pretended I hadn’t gotten one yet. It was easy.”

“Tian, that’s lying!” Jiao-tu said, pushing her plastic-framed glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“I would have said I already got one if they asked,” Tian protested, though he’d felt guilty at the time - and still did, especially with his cousin’s censure. It was weird to be chided by someone a foot shorter than him and almost as young as his sister. “They just never did.”

Jiang, however, laughed and punched him in the shoulder. “You could go work for the mafia or something!”

Tian punched him back, a littler harder. “What would I do in the mafia? They break people’s legs and kill them!”

“Yeah, but they steal shit, too, don’t they - like in the movies. You could break just a few legs, maybe. Like this -”

Jiang aimed a sharp kick at his knee, but Tian had anticipated and blocked with the side of his calf. Jiang used that moment of distraction to shoot at punch at his face, which Tian countered with his own jab followed by a roundhouse kick. His cousin blocked both, crossing both wrists to fend off the foot strike then cutting in an open-palm jab straight at Tian’s sternum.

Tian toppled over backwards; the air _whooshed_ out of his lungs as he landed hard on the packed dirt of the clearing.

“Brother, are you alright?” Xing was at his side at once.

“He’s fine,” Jiang said, reaching down a hand to help Tian up.

“Yeah, don’t worry, Xing, I’m fine.” Tian grasped Jiang’s hand; then right as his cousin shifted his balance to his rear leg to take his weight, he swung his own leg around in an arching curve that caught Jiang just behind the ankle.

With a loud _oof!_ Jiang crashed to the ground beside Tian. “Dog!” he growled, but he was laughing. Tian grinned.

“Are you guys _done_ yet?” Jiao-tu asked loudly with a roll of her eyes. “Aunt An said we had to be back before it gets dark - what if we get lost out here!”

“I never get lost,” Tian assured her as he and Jiang clasped arms in unspoken agreement not to cheat and helped each other up.

“Stop whining and show us how many you got,” Jiang said, with more than a touch of impatience.

“Here.” Jiao-tu placed a single string of _baozhu_ on the pile.

Jiang frowned at her. “Just one?”

“I tried to hide another one in my pocket, but Grandfather looked at me!”

“So?”

“So he would have asked why I was hiding it!”

“Then just take it back out and try again when - fine, never mind.” Jiang heaved a dramatic sigh. “I guess it’s better than none. Xing?”

“None,” Xing piped unabashedly from her perch on the log, where she was braiding her flowers into a daisy chain.

Jiang gaped. “None? Why not?”

“It was more fun to shoot them off on New Year’s; I like the sound they make.”

“I can’t believe this - we’ve been planning this for months! Even Jiao-tu managed _one_!”

“It’s alright,” Tian interjected. “The extra that I got make up for both Xing and Jiao-tu.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Jiang said. “I just hope it’s enough. Where’s the tube?”

Tian withdrew from the rucksack the foot-long piece of PVC pipe that he’d scrounged from a construction site on the way to school . It was topped with an upside-down funnel that Jiang had pulled out of a trash pile. The two of them together had painted it red and made a clay plug with a long kite string fuse.

Jiao-tu let out a startled gasp and pointed. “What is _that_? You said we were just going to set them off!”

“We _are_ setting them off,” Jiang told her. “Inside the rocket.”

The two boys set to work filling their makeshift rocket with the individual _baozhu_ cannisters cut from the strands, while Xing watched with curiosity and Jiao-tu fretted.

“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you - rockets aren’t easy to make, you know! “

“Think we can fit one more in?”

“Might as well try; it doesn’t matter if it gets squished, does it?”

“Guys, we’re going to get in so much trouble! What if Dad finds out?”

“Hey, the plug won’t stay in.”

“Huh, it must’ve shrunk after it dried - maybe we can seal it with something.”

“With what?”

“I don’t know -”

“What if _Grandfather_ finds out?”

That made both Tian and Jiang pause. They exchanged a worried look, then glanced at Jiao-tu’s frowning face.

“Fireworks aren’t illegal…” Tian began at the same time Jiang said, “He won’t find out if you don’t tell him!”

“ _I_ won’t tell,” Xing said brightly. “What color will it be when it explodes?”

Tian was grateful for the distracting question; the less he thought about the consequences, the less he had to worry about it. “White, the same as the _baozhu._ Sap!”

His cousin gave him a blank look. “Sap?”

Tian pointed at a pine just outside the clearing, where a ball of sap had formed above a branch about eight feet off the ground. “We can use that on the seal! I’ll get it.”

“No _I_ _’ll_ get it!”

“I saw it first!”

The two boys raced to the tree. Jiang was a much better sprinter than Tian, but being of stockier build, had a much shorter reach. Tian sprang up and caught the lowest branch while Jiang fell back to the forest floor with a loud _oof_. From there it was an easy shimmy up to the branch with the sap. Tian levered off the entire bolus and dropped it down to Jiang.

“Ugh, it’s all over my hands.”

“That just means it’ll stick!” Tian swung down to the ground, landing lightly on the balls of his feet. The two of them returned to the dead log to find Jiao-tu waiting, her hands on her hips.

“What if it _explodes_?”

“It’s supposed to, dummy,” Jiang said with a roll of his eyes. “It’s a _rocket_. Go make yourself useful and find a stick to prop it up with.”

Despite her continued mutterings, Jiao-tu did just that, coming back with a large forked stick that the rocket fit into perfectly. The sap did the trick of sealing the plug; Tian and Jiang wedged the contraption into the ground at the edge of the pit and stood back to admire the finished product.

“How high do you think it’ll go?” Jiang asked.

Tian had no idea. “A thousand feet?”

“What if it hits someone?” Xing asked, worry blooming across her face.

“It won’t. It’ll go straight up then explode.”

“Just like the fireworks at New Year’s,” Jiang told her. “Get behind the log, you two.”

As Xing and Jiao-tu scrambled behind the fallen tree, Jiang pulled a matchbook from his pocket and struck a match. A tiny flame flared into life. “Okay, here goes,” he said, a note of nervousness in his voice for the first time. Tian’s blood was racing as Jiang bent down and lit the fuse. “Go!”

The two boys dove behind the log, where Jiao-tu was huddled with her hands over her ears and her eyes squeezed shut. Tian looked frantically for his sister - then spotted her peeping around the roots of the tree.

“Xing, get back!” He caught her by the ankle and dragged her behind cover.

“I want to watch…”

“You’ll hear it go off, then we’ll see it shoot up in the sky,” Tian told her. “Just wait.”

They waited.

After what felt five whole minutes had gone by, Tian said, “Maybe we should have taken the powder of the cannisters?” They’d filled the pipe with the fuses still attached to most of the _baozhu_ , but maybe that hadn’t been enough.

“I bet the fuse went out, dammit.” Jiang said. “We should have made it shorter.”

Tian slowly rose up on his knees to peer over the log. “Yeah, but we needed time to get under cover. Hang on, I don’t see the fuse…”

Jiang joined him, looking out cautiously. “It must -”

_Bang! Bangbangbangbang!_

Jiao-tu shrieked; both boys dropped to the ground like stones, Tian’s heart in his throat, his cheek pressed into the dirt. Any second he expected to hear the rocket whizzing past directly over his head.

There wasn’t another sound except for a faint sizzling. Tian caught Jiang’s eye; he nodded, and slowly they both peeked over the top of the log again. The red PVC pipe had fallen over on its makeshift stand, but it was still intact. The fuse must have only reached a couple of the little firecrackers; they definitely should have emptied them out.

Tian turned to Jiang; they grinned at each other in relief. “Lucky we -”

_BOOM!_

White light burst in front of Tian’s eyes; he stumbled backwards in panic as something sharp stung his forehead. Landing hard on his rear, he blinked up at a cloudless blue sky. His ears were ringing - no, that was Jiao-tu screaming again. Then Jiang’s voice cut through the noise. “Shit, I’m on fire! I’m on fire!”

Tian sat up straight, wiping the stinging sweat from his eye to see his cousin jumping up and down, swatting at a tiny smoking patch on his t-shirt. Reacting instinctively, Tian threw himself forward onto his palms and swept his leg out in front of him, catching Jiang right below the back of the knees. The sweep knocked Jiang flat on his back; before he could react, Tian had dumped a pile of dirt over the smoking spot on his chest and pressed down hard.

“Is it out?” Tian managed, suddenly out of breath.

“I think so,” Jiang said shakily. “It doesn’t hurt.” He sat up, brushing the dirt away to reveal a cigarette-butt-sized hole in his t-shirt; the skin beneath didn’t look too raw.

Tian sighed in relief, wiping more wetness from his forehead, then spotted his sister peering with interest over the top of the log. “Xing, are you -”

“Shit, man, what happened to your face?”

“What?” Tian turned; Jiang was staring at him open-mouthed. Xing turned as well and gasped.

“Brother, your eye!” She darted to his side, squinted at his face for a moment, then grabbed his rucksack and rummaged until she found the white handkerchief that he always carried for her.

“Xing, that’s -” he began, but she had already pressed it to his face and was wiping away what he - looking the red smears on the back of his hand - realized must be blood.

“I’m getting Dad!”

“ _No_!” Jiang and Tian both shouted together, but Jiao-tu was already sprinting down the path like a startled rabbit.

“Dammit,” Jiang muttered, plucking absently at the hole in his shirt. He heaved a sigh. “What’s our story?”

“I don’t think we have one.”

“An angry squirrel chucked acorns at us and hit you in the head?”

Tian laughed, taking the bloodied handkerchief from Xing so that he could put pressure on it and try to stop the bleeding; but his heart was sinking. “We can try, but I really don’t think your dad will believe that. My dad might pretend to, at least.”

“Why didn’t ‘Tu run to get _your_ dad,” Jiang grumbled.

It wasn’t just Uncle that Jiao-tu brought back with her, however.

Tian had tied the handkerchief around his head to keep it in place while he, Jiang, and Xing scouted for the still-smoking pieces of the exploded rocket; Jiang’s comment that Tian looked like a battle-wounded Shaolin monk led to a heated sword - well, stick - fight to Xing’s cheers. Jiang had just disarmed Tian and knocked him to his back when Jiao-tu and the entire, panicked family crested the hill.

Even now Hei could still remember that feeling of utter, impending doom at the sight of his parents’ horrified faces, while Grandfather took in the whole scene with a single, silent sweep of his gaze.

“I wish I could say that I can’t believe how stupid you were,” Misaki said, “but somehow, I do believe it.”

“Thanks.”

She laughed, sending a warm tingle through his belly. “Did you get into much trouble?”

“Actually, no. My mom stitched my cut that night and made sure I knew what an idiot I was, but no one punished us, not even Uncle. The next day Grandfather told us to come down to the lake with him, and we were sure we were in huge trouble then; but he didn’t say a word. He had a bag full of matchbooks and bottlecaps; he showed us how to grind up the match heads, fill the bottlecaps with the powder and a short fuse, and crimp them shut with a pair of pliers. We spent all morning making them, and all afternoon throwing them out over the lake to pop.”

Hei could almost still _smell_ that day, the acrid scent of sulfur from the matches mingling with the sweet tobacco smoke from Grandfather’s pipe. They’d stayed long into the evening, lighting and throwing the tiny crackers out across the orange and pink water at dusk, while Grandfather watched silently from his seat on an old stump, the sunset reflecting almost golden off the curve of his bald head.

Years later, Hei was regularly making those same tiny explosives - this time using re-purposed bullet cartridges instead of bottlecaps, with a measured layer of baking soda to delay the fuse - to divert his enemies’ attention away from his location and allow him to complete his missions unseen.

Misaki squeezed his hand, somehow detecting his abrupt change of mood. “So what are your plans for tomorrow?”

Tomorrow. March sixteenth. Hei took a deep breath. “I think I’ll make a big batch of _tangyuan._ That was one of Xing’s favorite foods; Mother always made it for her birthday. I’ll take it down to the tunnel entrance to the Gate.”

He’d decided against going to the Shrine of the Gate. While most people used that altar to pay their respects to loved ones lost after Hell’s Gate had appeared, there was small but not minor contingent who _worshiped_ there. The very thought turned Hei’s stomach. The tunnel entrance where he and his team had followed Wei had been the first step on the road to seeing Xing again, however briefly. That felt like the more appropriate place to go to remember her.

Misaki squeezed his hand again. “That sounds perfect. Are you…taking the _whole_ batch of _tangyuan_?”

“You mean, will I leave some for you? Even though I just made you a huge plate for the lunar new year?”

“I was just - I mean, I wasn’t sure how much you were planning on making…”

Hei pulled her into his lap so that he could wrap his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Don’t worry; I’m making a double batch.”

Misaki laughed and shifted so that she was straddling him; she threaded her fingers through his hair. “I knew there was a reason I love you. Hey, that wushu competition is tomorrow night, right? Are you still going?”

“Yeah, if I don’t spend too much time by the Gate. It’ll be…strange, seeing wushu again.”

Hei hadn’t been to a competition since before he’d left home; in fact he’d been competing himself at that last one. He’d kept up his own training in the basics over the years, of course, as well as learning a number of other styles, but he hadn’t seen real wushu the way that his grandfather had taught it in a dozen years. The thought tied his stomach knots almost as tightly as the idea of calling Grandfather did. Saitou had gotten tickets for both him and Kouno, though, and Hei hadn’t been able to say no.

Misaki kissed him. “You’ll be fine; I’m sure you’ll end up enjoying it,” she said; then, yawning widely, added, “I need to finish packing; that flight tomorrow is early.”

“You shouldn’t have put it off so late.”

“There’s still some time before bed to -”

“No.”

“No?” Misaki arched an eyebrow.

Hei slid his hands down from her waist to her ass and squeezed gently. “No. I’m about to not see you for two days and two nights.” He took her lips in his, savoring the warmth of them. “Which means…” He began trailing kisses down her jaw, “that I’m not letting go of you…” He reached her neck and nibbled, eliciting a long, low moan. “Until I put you on that plane in the morning.”

“Wait - stop!” Misaki gasped out.

Hei abruptly pulled back in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

She punched his shoulder. “Not on the new sofa! Take me to the bedroom.”

He smiled and rose with her in his arms, only too happy to oblige.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, sorry - but the next one is longer, and kicks off the main plot, so it will be worth the wait.
> 
> Also, yes, I know everyone is dying for the next chapter of _Sacrifices_. Don't worry, I will get back to it soon - the problem is that I have too many WIPs going on right now to focus on one as detailed as _The Behemoth_ \- er, _Sacrifices_. (You have no idea how long that story is going to be. No idea). Once I get _The Shifu_ out of my head (9ish chapters, maybe 30,000 words?), it will be all _Sacrifices_ , all the time...

Hei gently set the plate of freshly-made _tangyuan_ on the ground next to the rough concrete that was the subterranean foundation of the Gate's wall. The plate was a cute plastic one, white with pink sakura blossoms; half a dozen sweet rice balls were stacked in a small pyramid in the center. Xing would have thought it was pretty; Bai would have commented on the contrast between the clean innocence of the plate and the grimy filth of the tunnel's floor.

She'd done that sort of thing often in the last year or so of her existence, though Hei hadn't really noticed it then - a disinterested mention of a bright flower in the midst of a killing field, or a long study of the stars as they fell by her hand. Then, he had assumed that she was merely taking stock of her surroundings in that odd, detached way she'd always had as a contractor; but the more he thought about it - the more he considered what Amber had told him, and Bai's warm smile at the center of the Gate - he was beginning to wonder if maybe she hadn't been seeking out her own sort of poetry. Trying to find a path back to humanity. And he'd just been too biased to see it.

Overhead, a light flickered fitfully, casting a brief shadow over the broad streak of blood splashed against one of the pillars. Wei's body was gone; removed by Section Four long after the corpse had rotted. The piece of wall that his life's blood had destroyed had been repaired and fitted with a reinforced steel door, the same that was used in the vaults of the highest-security banks.

When Hei had told Misaki shortly after joining Section Four exactly how he'd gotten inside during the Tokyo Explosion, she'd been irate that it had been so easy, no matter how well hidden. She'd wanted to seal up this entrance to the Gate completely; he'd pointed out to her that with contractors involved, a solid wall wasn't any more of a deterrent than a vault door no matter how thick. If they knew to come here to break in, they could do it easily. But without a network of dolls to guide them, anyone - contractor or human - who managed to enter would quickly find themselves lost beyond hope, so there wasn't much point to trying to keep people out. The Gate did that on its own.

Besides, what if some new Syndicate attempted to do the same thing all over again, or perhaps something worse? Hei wouldn't have Amber this time around; an entrance that he could get through easily might be necessary.

And the thought of forever cutting off his access to the only place he knew he could see his sister again was unbearable. Maybe it would be impossible without the meteor shard - that artifact had been present both times that he'd seen her - but it was still the closest chance that he had.

He hadn't come here to think about that, though. He'd come to remember Xing.

He spent about a minute fidgeting with the plate - positioning it just so, then moving it again. Not that it made any difference where the plate was. It wasn't like Xing was actually _here_.

It was eerie being alone beneath the city like this, in a place where he'd left two of his team members behind forever - Huang at the entrance to the tunnel, Mao on the other side. He'd almost put on his Reaper gear for this visit, hands automatically reaching for the roll of midnight black fabric stuffed in the back of his bureau drawer. Instead, he'd chosen a pair of dark jeans and a black button-down shirt. Bai had found a coexistence between the child that she'd been and the contractor that she had become; Hei had too, now, he supposed.

At least, he was working on it.

He _had_ worn his cotton-soled shoes, and tucked an extra knife or two into his belt; this place was right at the edge of the Gate, after all, even if he didn't think that anyone else knew about it.

He'd worn a pair of gloves as well. Even though his fingers prints were now officially on file with the police (and _not_ in connection to any criminal databases), it wouldn't do to leave any trace of his presence here, just in case someone did stumble across the simple _tangyuan_ offering and wonder who might be leaving food in such a place. He'd gotten an odd look or two on the train, carrying the plastic-wrapped white and pink plate in black-gloved hands, but his best _Officer Li_ smile had been enough to dispel any fear.

Straightening at last, he gazed down at the plate and wondered what to do next.

Misaki spoke out loud whenever she visited her mother's grave. Hei didn't think he could do that. Every instinct that he possessed as a spy and assassin was whispering to him to not make a sound, lest it bounce off the walls of this concrete tomb. It was bad enough that he was standing out in the open, such as it was.

If Xing really was somehow a part of him now, then she shouldn't need to hear his voice to understand what he wanted her to know.

Hei wondered what she would look like now. She would have been twenty today; a grown woman. By the time of her disappearance, she'd only just been venturing into the realm of puberty; she'd changed quite a lot in that last year. How much more would she have changed? She'd be taller, probably. Not reaching his height, but perhaps taller than Misaki. That was strange to consider; in his head, Xing was still a little girl of nine, no matter how much she'd grown up since she'd become a contractor.

Her ninth birthday was the last birthday that they'd celebrated together. Mother had made her a huge bowl of noodles at breakfast, to wish her a long and happy life. After Father had gotten home from work that evening they'd all gone over to the Xu residence, where Grandmother had made enough sweet rice balls to feed ten families. Even Jiang and Hei together hadn't been able to finish them off.

Mother and Father had gotten her a first-aid kit, so that she could practice being a nurse; that was what she wanted to be when she grew up. Well, she'd wanted to be a hundred different things; but _nurse_ always came out on top.

Hei had bought her a silk scarf, red with blue flowers. She'd worn it every day that spring until the weather had turned too hot. And even then Mother had had to take it away to keep her from wearing it out in the summer heat.

On her tenth birthday, Hei had stolen a cute stuffed pig from a street vendor down the road from the Syndicate's training facility in Hong Kong. Bai had looked at it blankly and asked why he'd chosen something so easy to practice his lifting skills. She'd put it in her foot locker in the barracks and never looked at it again. For all Hei knew it was still there, mystifying each new assignee to that bunk.

He sighed to himself, wondering if she would still love sweet rice balls. Would she still have popped an entire _tangyuan_ into her mouth, then chased after him for a sticky kiss on the cheek? He smiled. Probably.

Well, Xing would have. Bai…Bai would have carefully eaten each one, held elegantly at the tips of her chopsticks. Every movement that Xing had made had been playful; as a growing young contractor, that playfulness had turned to a deadly sort of grace.

Amber had called her lovely. No man - contractor or human - had ever commented on her appearance within Hei's hearing. It wasn't like he'd actively discouraged it; most people had just tended to stay away from the both of them.

He wondered if, were she still alive, she would have had a boyfriend by now. Or girlfriend, perhaps; as a contractor, she hadn't shown herself to be predisposed towards one or the other. In any case, whoever she might have found would have been lucky to have her.

Xing would have been over the moon to welcome Misaki into the family, to have a sister. Bai would have respected her, Hei thought. Liked her even.

He smiled to himself. What contractor wouldn't appreciate Misaki's implacable rationality?

His watch beeped, startling him back to the present. Glancing at the time, he realized that the wushu competition had already started; he'd spent more time here than he'd expected. Time to go.

"Happy birthday, Xing," he said quietly into the empty chamber.

As he turned to go, a whisper froze him in his tracks. No…not a whisper. More like a… _feeling_. A feeling that said, _Come back again_.

He smiled sadly. "I will. I'm sorry it took me so long."

Then, feeling like an idiot for talking to an empty room, he left.


	3. Chapter 3

Hei edged along the packed stadium row, pressing his messenger bag against his side to keep it from accidentally knocking someone in the head. It looked to be some kind of intermission, at least, so he wasn't blocking anyone's view as he passed. A dozen seats (and apologies) later, he reached the empty one beside Kouno; Saitou was in the next seat over.

"Hey man, what took you so long?" the younger detective said by way of greeting as he took a swallow of his beer. "We were starting to think you wouldn't show!"

Hei shrugged off the bag and set it down by his feet. "Had something to take care of first; then I swung by the office for a few minutes."

"Please tell me that bag isn't full of case files," Kouno said. "It's the weekend!"

Saitou just laughed. "You and the Chief - neither of you know how to stop working."

That wasn't entirely true; when Misaki was home, Hei had no problem lounging around on the sofa reading or watching television all day, or simply relaxing with her. When she was away at a conference or other business and he was home alone, however, that old need to be _prepared_ for almost anything would creep over him. He'd find himself putting in extra hours at the gym, wandering the streets mentally mapping out escape routes and hidden watchpoints, or finding pockets of foreigners to practice his language and alias-building skills with.

Or, like today, cooking and working.

"Actually, I'm thinking about maybe taking the detective examination," he said. "I picked up some material to study."

"Seriously?" Kouno exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder. "That's awesome!"

Saitou nodded. "It's about time. You should have tested months ago."

"Really? Misaki said that it was normal to wait until after two years…"

She'd been enthusiastically supportive of his interest in it, even if he would be bucking the standard by applying early; that both Saitou and Kouno thought it was a good idea too was encouraging.

Saitou merely waived a hand. "For newbies, sure. But you were pretty experienced already when you joined; you can ace it easy."

"Chief gonna help you study?"

Hei snorted. "Are you kidding?"

"Come on, Kouno, don't be an idiot."

"What? Reviewing test questions isn't cheating -"

Kouno was cut off by flashing red and white lights and a booming announcer welcoming them back to the East Asian Games in both English and Japanese. The crowd cheered loud enough to rattle the rafters, and Hei noticed for the first time that the stadium was informally sectioned off by nationality. The three of them were in a sea of white and red rising suns; lower down, between them and the floor, was the red and yellow of China.

"What'd I miss?" Hei asked, raising his voice to be heard above the din.

"Some stuff with swords," Kouno told him. "Pretty awesome."

Saitou had a glossy program in his hands. "Women's _changchan_ ," he read. "No wait, women's competitions were yesterday…"

" _Told_ you we should have gotten tickets for last night instead," Kouno interjected.

Saitou ignored him. "The last event was the men's _changchan_."

" _Changquan_ ," Hei corrected, a little disappointed. He should have checked out the schedule beforehand. "I used to compete in that when I was a kid."

"What, no kidding?"

"My grandfather ran a wushu school, so I grew up with it; I competed in most of the _taolu_ forms."

Kouno's low whistle cut through the noise of the crowds. "Bet you were pretty good!"

Hei laughed and ran a hand through his hair, slightly embarrassed. "I made it to regional qualifying events a few times, but I usually bombed during the actual competition. Stage fright, I guess. My cousin always did really well."

"Yeah, but seriously," Saitou said, "all those acrobatics mixed with the martial arts forms? That must have really helped your training in the Syndicate."

It was still so strange to hear his co-workers - friends now, he supposed - casually mention his time in the Syndicate like it was completely normal and not at all something that they should fear him for. Like it had just been some sort of extreme boarding school.

He shrugged. "Yeah, I definitely used my wushu training to hone my fighting technique. It gave me a good base to start with. But in _taolu_ the _nandu_ have to be so precise, and the forms used in competition - especially in _duilian_ and _jiti_ \- are pretty far removed from functional martial arts. It's all performance."

"Yeah I didn't understand half of what you just said - but basically, you'd wipe these guys' asses in a street fight?" Kouno nudged Saitou. "Shit, remember that guy from Malaysia? The one who did a backflip into the splits?"

"That was pretty amazing, yeah - was that the sort of thing you did, Li?"

"Sure. I mean, at a lower level, because I was only like, twelve."

It occurred to him then that if Xing had never become a contractor, he'd probably still be competing in wushu tournaments. He wondered how good he would have gotten, if he'd been able to overcome his fear of being in front of a crowd (that was a big if; the idea was still slightly terrifying, especially after he'd spent so long surviving by _not_ being seen). The competitors here were all about his age, he realized as he watched them parade around the blue _sanda_ square as the announcer described the next event.

The sparring square was raised a foot or two above yellow crash pads, like a boxing ring but without the manropes. It took up about a third of the floor; the rest of the space was a large blue rectangular carpet for the _taolu_ routines.

The competitors, all in line, exited the floor to prep in the wings, and for a brief moment something twinged at Hei's awareness; but he ignored it. His senses were always on high alert in crowded spaces like this, and ninety-nine point nine percent of the time it was simply unfounded paranoia. The flashing animated ads splashed across the marquees all over the stadium didn't help either.

He probably wouldn't have ever been good enough to compete at this level, he knew; the East Asian Games were one step below the world championships. Anyway, Grandfather had never been all that interested in his students' success in tournaments. Scores were subjective, judges were biased, and intense competition pushed the athletes to try more dangerously difficult moves at serious risk to themselves. The Xu Man School of Wushu instead focused on _using_ wushu to understand the self, with no reliance on external approbation. In fact, Grandfather's favorite discipline was the non-competitive _tai chi_ ; he always said it required far more discipline than any of the acrobatic _taolu_ forms.

Hei and Jiang had both thought _tai chi_ ridiculously boring; but neither had ever dared tell that to _Shifu_ Grandfather.

"What're they doing now?" Kouno asked.

"Weren't you listening to the announcer? _Sandu_."

" _Sanda._ It's like boxing," Hei said. "Sort of."

The first two competitors entered the ring to enthusiastic cheers, mostly from the Hong Kong and South Korean sections of the stands. They wore silk uniforms in their countries' colors and light sparring gloves, but no other protection. Both were barefoot.

As the match started, Hei explained the points system as best he could to Kouno and Saitou. It had been a long, long time since he'd seen _sanda_ , and the competition rules were pretty different from the more traditional sparring that he'd grown up with. There was a lot more grappling than Grandfather had ever allowed, and much less emphasis on foot strikes. This fight actually looked more like the Western sports that Hei had seen after leaving home than the martial art that he'd grown up with.

It was surprisingly disappointing; he'd expected to _not_ want to face such definite reminders of his childhood.

"I bet I could take that guy," Kouno commented after the South Korean man had lost both his first and second rounds, thus losing the match.

Hei leaned back in his seat as he watched the fans milling about during the short break between matches. He'd decided to just enjoy the competition for what it was, and not worry too much about how different it was from the memories crowding his mind. Misaki was right - this wasn't as nerve-wracking as he'd expected it to be. "You think? It's a lot hard than it looks. When I -"

His pulse suddenly spiked as some sixth sense set him on high alert. Frozen in his seat, he scanned the streams of people going up and down the walkways, searching for whatever it was that his subconscious had pinged. His gaze shifted to the red and yellow of the Chinese fans. Had he spotted someone there? Some former enemy from his Syndicate days?

"When you what?" Kouno asked.

"You alright, Li?" Saitou's brow furrowed in concern.

"What? Yeah. Yeah, I just saw…probably nothing."

Kouno lowered his voice and leaned forward, scanning the crowd along with Hei. "Contractor?"

Hei thought about it for a long moment, trying to analyze his reaction. "No," he said at last, running a hand down his face. "I don't think so. I'm just on edge, maybe; too many people." It hadn't felt like mere paranoia, though.

"Well," Kouno said, sounding unconvinced, "tell us if you see something. Big event like this, eight different countries participating - Astronomics hasn't picked up any new stars coming into range this week, but you never know."

Hei nodded absently, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. It was a relaxed posture that conveyed the impression that he was intent on watching the next pair of competitors step into the ring. In reality, he was tensed to spring from his seat in either an offensive charge or defensive flight, while his mind mapped out the stadium, its ingress and egress points, and all the strategic advantages and disadvantages of each.

He had two knives on him; electricity would be a bad idea in this crowd, but no one would bat an eye at a hand-to-hand fight. As long as he didn't have to kill anyone, anyway. The most important thing would be to get out of the stands and away from bystanders; he wished that Saitou had chosen seats closer to the end of the row.

The next match finished, with Guam narrowly beating out Macau. Nothing else had triggered Hei's instincts, and he started to relax again. Just paranoia. It was always worse when Misaki was away.

"I'm going for food," Saitou announced, standing. "Anyone want anything?"

"No thanks," Hei said as his stomach betrayed him with a loud growl. Japanese stadium food had to be his favorite of all the country's cuisine. And if he really _hadn_ _'t_ seen anything, then he could afford to eat a little. "Well, maybe yakitori. And some edamame. Oh, and those little fried octopuses, if they have any."

Kouno snorted. "Order me whatever's left after he's emptied out the kitchen."

As Saitou made his way up the steps towards the concession stands, Kouno said, "Oh yeah, I almost forgot - I was going to show you this. It just popped up online this morning." He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through the screen. "Well, it was posted three weeks ago, but it's only just started to go viral."

"What has?" Hei said. The next match was slated to be China versus Japan; he wondered who he ought to root for.

"Here." Kouno handed him his phone with a video queued up. "I think it can wait until the Chief gets back to let her know; the quality's shitty enough that you can't ID anyone. We could suppress it, but it's already got over a hundred thousand hits; and anyway, it makes us look pretty good."

Curious, Hei pressed play. It was a recording from what was obviously someone's cell phone, taken while driving down the road behind…Misaki's car? The blue Porsche had its police siren flashing as it raced ahead of the camera's car, chasing down a careening armored truck. Nothing about the scene looked familiar at all to Hei, but he knew at once what it was.

"Oh, crap."

He watched in silent horror as Misaki swerved around the truck, then saw himself climb out the passenger window and onto the roof. Damn it, why had he let Misaki get so close to that truck? She was a great driver - damn good, actually, he had no problem admitting while watching the footage - but one false move…

The amateur photographer - a girl, it sounded like - followed behind the entire chase with a constant stream of hyperventilated commentary, speculating about the possibility of contractors being involved, only to confirm it with a scream when a blast of air took out the truck's passenger door, nearly taking Hei with it.

Kouno was right: the picture quality was poor, the camera shaky; they never got close enough that Hei's face could be clearly seen.

The truck careened into a parking garage as the camera's car drove past. The video abruptly ended.

"Crap," Hei repeated, running his hand through his hair. He hated _photos_ of himself, let alone video. How could he have been so careless as to let himself get filmed like this?

"Keep watching."

"What - they followed us in?" Hei couldn't believe it; the camera feed had jumped to about a few minutes later as a second video was edited in. An excited teenage girl was filming herself as she and a friend ran into the shopping mall where Hei and the contractor had gone.

"Lot of idiots in this city, man."

The camera flipped to film down the mall's corridor. Hei watched himself throw a knife into the contractor's calf, then engage in an all-out hand-to-hand fight while Saitou and Kouno (recognizable only by the backs of their heads) danced around the edges of the screen, trying to line up a shot while keeping the bystanders clear.

"Why didn't you take her phone away?" Hei snapped as Kouno passed within two feet of the girl filming.

"Uh, I was a little occupied with trying to cover my partner?"

He shook his head. "Right. Sorry." _I_ _'m in Section Four now_ , he reminded himself. _Not the Syndicate. It_ _'s okay if people see me_.

Then he winced as he saw himself stumble through the large glass window of the jewelry store and crack his head on a display case. Absently he rubbed at his new scar.

Misaki had told him that he'd called on his power in the last moments of the fight; with a huge wave of relief he saw that the contractor was standing between him and the camera. It was impossible to tell that some of that flickering blue glow was coming from Hei, not the contractor.

A long-haired woman in a navy trenchcoat dashed past the camera, came to a dead halt, and calmly raised her gun. Then Saitou's bulk abruptly filled the screen, and the video ended.

" _Shit_ ," Hei swore. There really was no other response. He passed the phone back to a startled Kouno.

"Yeah. There's been a lot of amateur footage of contractors finding its way online in the last year, now that they're no longer a government secret, but I think this is the closest anyone's really gotten to one. Check out the comments - you're like, everyone's hero now. _Mystery Section Four cop takes down contractor_." Kouno grinned, but Hei couldn't find it in himself to respond likewise.

"Misaki took him down, not me. She should probably see this sooner rather than later," he said. "Just in case she wants to do something about it."

"Sure, let me send it to you; you can pass it on."

"Coward."

"Yup. By the way -" he backed up the video to the moment when Misaki raised her gun and Saitou blocked the screen " - _this_ is when you popped the question. About five seconds after she shot the guy."

"Thanks."

Kouno backed it up again. "Right here."

Hei grimaced. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"Nope."

The phone in Hei's messenger bag buzzed faintly, signaling that the video link had been received. Thank god his face hadn't been identifiable; maybe he _should_ start wearing his mask again, if he was going to be doing shit like jumping out of cars on a busy public street.

"Oh hey, here we go - Japan's up!"

Hei glanced down at the ring - and stared. The Japanese competitor had entered the ring, clad in white and red, but Hei's entire attention was fixed on his Chinese opponent. The man was on the short side with a powerful, stocky build; his hair was shaved on the sides and buzzed short on the crown. In that red silk uniform, he didn't look all that different from the other Chinese team members sitting at the bottom of the stands.

But Hei _knew_ that sauntering walk, that roll of the neck, that tapping together of knuckles that said _I_ _'m the best one here and we both know it, but hey I'll give you a fighting chance anyway_.

 _You_ _'re crazy_ , he told himself, the blood draining from his face _. There_ _'s no way. Grandfather would never let any of us…_

The announcer's voice boomed over the PA system, introducing the competitors; Hei told himself that he must have misheard. His paranoia was making him delusional; that had happened once or twice when after he'd spent days running on high adrenaline and no sleep.

But the name flashing across the marquee was no delusion: _Xu Jiang, Xi_ _'an, China._

 _It_ _'s not possible,_ he tried to convince himself again. _It_ _'s some other Jiang._

The referee's whistle blew, starting the match. The Chinese fighter immediately leapt forward and swung a right jab at his opponent's torso; the other man jumped aside easily and countered with a punch of his own.

"Good dodge!" Kouno said with a pump of his fist.

"It was a feint," Hei said numbly. "Testing his defense."

"I dunno, looked pretty committed to me…"

"He'll do it two more times, then jump in and attack until the clock runs down. Watch."

They both watched as the Chinese man aimed two more punches that his opponent avoided with little trouble; then immediately following the second punch he lashed out with an aggressive side kick, catching the other man completely unawares. The Japanese competitor took the strike right in the chest and stumbled off the mat, barely keep his balance.

From then, it was just as Hei had predicted: a flurry of smart, quick punches and easy points. Every time the Japanese man tried to move in for a grappling hold, ducking in under the hand strikes, he would be met with sharp defensive kicks that kept him from closing. The Chinese fighter never once tried for a hold, instead relying far more on footwork than any of the other competitors had so far.

The Japanese man danced around the mat, forced to adopt a purely defensive strategy in an effort to not get scored on as the clock ran down. Finally, with just ten seconds left, he leapt forward in what Hei was sure he thought would be a surprise attack. He aimed a left hook at his opponent's head - only for the Chinese fighter to drop in a sudden crouch and catch him in a sweep. The Japanese man hit the mat flat on his back as the referee's whistle blew, signaling the end of the match.

"Damn, you were right! Have you seen this guy fight before?"

"Yes," Hei managed, his voice thick. "He's my cousin."


	4. Chapter 4

“Cousin?” Kouno asked, his voice sounding distant to Hei’s ears. “You didn’t tell us you knew anyone competing in the Games!”

“I didn’t know.” His throat had gone dry.

On the arena floor below, Jiang was pumping both fists in the air to the cheers of the Chinese fans. Even from this distance, Hei recognized that familiar, victorious grin.

“How - oh right, the whole, uh, contractor thing. Does your cousin not know you’re in Tokyo either, then?”

“He thinks I’m dead,” Hei said flatly. “My whole family does.”

“Wow. Shit, that’s intense, man…”

Kouno was asking another question, but Hei barely heard him. If Jiang was here, did that mean…

There was a short two-minute break between rounds; unable to so much as blink, he watched Jiang stride out of the ring to sit on a folding metal chair on one side of the judges’ table while his opponent sat on the other side. His cousin took a swig from a water bottle as a man of middling height with a balding crown crouched down beside him, punctuating whatever he was saying with short, sharp gestures.

 _Uncle_.

It had to be. Grandfather had overseen their training, but Uncle had been the one running each class. How many times, for how many years, had Uncle Hong stood in front of Hei and explained what he’d been doing wrong with those exact gestures? Hei could almost hear his voice, as if he was standing in front of him again. _You have to_ breathe _through your recoils, Tian, never lose connection with the energy that powers your movements_ _…_

Sweat beaded on his forehead. Jiang’s presence in the parade of competitors explained that first ping of his instincts, but that hadn’t been what had set his pulse racing. _That_ had been something - someone - that he’d subconsciously noticed in the stands. Somewhere below him.

He didn’t think a glimpse of Uncle would have set off such a sharp panic.

_It_ _’s not possible. Even if Jiang made it this far, he would never approve…_

Heart in his throat, Hei watched his uncle make his way back to his seat in the first row of the Chinese spectator section.

As Uncle sat, he turned to speak to the old man in the seat next to him. An old man with a bald, liver-spotted head, sitting up straight with his arms crossed. A dozen years later, and Hei still recognized that posture instantly.

He couldn’t breathe.

_Grandfather._

“Hey, Li, you okay?”

“I have to go,” Hei said abruptly.

He grabbed his bag and fled towards the aisle, heedless of the complaints as he pushed his way down the row. In the distance he heard the referee’s whistle starting the second round, but refused to turn his head and watch.

It was all he could do not to sprint up the stairs and out of the arena. But his brain had already switched into survival autopilot, and years of training overruled his emotion. Running would attract attention; attention was dangerous. Instead, he let his body carry him to safety while his mind went into overdrive.

 _How?_ The question was caught in an endless loop, repeated over and over again in a hundred different iterations. _How can they be here in Tokyo, of all places?_

“Li, what -”

Hei didn’t stop to acknowledge the detective heading down the stairs with his arms full of food. The doors to the main concourse were just ahead. Fifteen steps away. Ten.

_Grandfather hates the Games, how could he let Jiang compete?_

The arena doors swung shut behind him, closing off the sounds of the audiences’ cheers and the announcer’s commentary.

He still didn’t stop, though in the relative quiet of the row of concession stands he felt his breathing ease a bit. But only a bit. There was more open space here, with high ceilings and metal framework towering over the wide concourse. A sniper’s playground.

Scanning the periphery for anything and everything, though in his rational mind he knew there wasn’t a threat, Hei made his way quickly but calmly towards one of the access points that he’d automatically noted on his arrival at the stadium.

 _Why are the Games in Tokyo this year? Eight different countries - why_ here _?_

After ten yards he reached a set of double doors labeled ‘Employees Only’. There was no keypad or badge access. He pushed them open.

 _Walk straight down the middle like you know where you_ _’re going_ , his training told him. _If someone makes eye contact, just smile and nod_.

He passed a few stadium employees pushing cartloads of soda or carrying stacks of linen. Each one wore a red polo shirt with black pants. A couple glanced his way curiously, probably wondering at his lack of a polo; but he smiled, and nodded, and they continued on their way without a word.

On the left was a marked stairwell. Hei ducked inside. With no one to observe him here, he took the stairs three at a time, heading for the ground floor. If only he’d had his rappelling gear he could have dropped straight to the bottom.

 _Why why why did they have to come_ here _?_

Chilly evening air stung the sweat on his skin as he pushed through the door at the base of the stairs. Breathing deeply, he took stock of where he was.

Behind the stadium; thirty yards from a loading dock. Empty crates from previous deliveries waiting to be picked up again were stacked next to the door. Leaning up against them were four uniformed employees. One woman, three men.

The woman raised an eyebrow at his sudden appearance. “You lost?”

Hei noted the cigarette between her fingers, and smiled sheepishly. “Just came out for a quick smoke.” He dug in his pockets. “Don’t know where I left my pack, though. Can I bum one?”

His heart rate decreased an incremental amount when she shrugged and pulled a half-squashed pack out of her back pocket. She handed him a cigarette and lighter.

“Thanks.”

The taste of cigarettes always made him want to gag, but he’d had to do this too many times before to let it affect him now. He lit up and tossed the lighter back to the woman, then casually stepped two paces away and leaned against the wall. Just a sports fan getting a quiet nicotine fix.

After two long minutes during which he faked a few puffs, the stadium employees finished their own cigarettes and headed back inside. Exhaling a heavy breath that he hadn’t even realized he was holding, Hei slid down the wall to rest on his heels behind the crates. The cigarette dangled loosely in his fingers, the burning end trembling. He forced himself to breathe, in and out, focused on steadying that little speck of light.

 _You_ _’re fine_ , he told himself. _No one is after you. No one knows you_ _’re here. Saitou and Kouno are inside. Misaki is safe in Osaka. You’re fine_.

He watched the cigarette. It was still trembling, belying his racing pulse.

A draft shifted the acrid smoke back towards him. _Shit_ , he realized suddenly, and stubbed the cigarette out on the concrete. He did not want to have to explain to Misaki why his shirt smelled like cigarette smoke.

The thought of her sent a longing lancing through his heart. God but he wished she was here right now, instead of hours away at the retreat.

With a long sigh, he gazed up at the fake stars that were just glimmering into view as the sun dipped below the horizon. His was up there, somewhere. Xing’s.

He’d never learned which one it was. During Heaven’s War, he hadn’t wanted to read his sister’s death in the sky. After, he’d been too afraid to see it fall - and somehow still be standing himself.

“Hei? What’s wrong?”

It wasn’t until he heard Misaki’s voice in his ear that he realized he’d even taken out his phone, let alone dialed.

“Hi,” he said wearily. “Nothing’s wrong, sorry. I didn’t mean to call.”

“Don’t bullshit me!” Misaki snapped. “You don’t call on purpose, let alone on accident - what’s going on?”

Despite her words, there was nothing but worry in her tone and Hei felt a rush of guilt. “It can wait; you must be in a meeting. I’m fine, really.”

“I was, yes, but I stepped out.” She took an audible breath. “Where are you?”

“At the stadium. Outside.”

“Okay. Are Saitou and Kouno there?”

“They’re inside. Watching the matches. I - I had to leave.” _Because_ they’re _inside too_. A few hundred feet - and twelve years - was all that was between Hei and his past.

He wasn’t ready.

“Hei, just tell me what it is,” Misaki said softly. “Please.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “My cousin’s competing,” he said at last. “Uncle and - and Grandfather are here too. I saw them.”

“Oh. Oh, wow. Hei… Are you okay?”

“I’m - I’m dealing with it.” He pressed two fingers to his neck. His pulse had lowered a bit since he’d started talking with Misaki, but that edge of panic was still hovering close. “I just needed to get some air.”

“Okay. Good. Are you…going to go see them?”

He tilted his head back against the hard concrete wall. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. I don’t know. I can’t - I can’t think right now.”

“It’s okay,” Misaki told him gently. “You don’t have to think about it tonight. If they’re here for the competition, then they’ll be here for a few days, right? You can decide later.”

That was true. His anxiety eased a tiny bit. “Yeah.”

“Do you want me to come home? There might be a late flight I can -”

“No,” Hei interrupted, though his heart was begging her to come home _now_. She shouldn’t have to drop her responsibilities just because he couldn’t manage his own emotions. “You don’t need to. I’ll be fine. Like I said, I just needed some air.”

“Okay,” Misaki said, though she didn’t sound convinced. “Have you talked to Haruko?”

“No. Not yet.”

“I think you should give her a call. I’m sure she can help you work through this better than I can.” Muffled voices sounded in the background, and Misaki gave a frustrated sigh. “I need to get back inside. Are you sure you don’t want me to -”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m sorry for interrupting your -”

“Stop. You didn’t interrupt anything. Promise me you’ll talk to Haruko? Tonight?”

“Yeah. I promise.” He suppressed a sigh, not ready to lose the sound of her voice. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Hei - you’ll be okay. I’ll see you in a couple days. Call you later, okay?”

He ended the call, gazing at the phone in his hand for a long moment. Missing her, and wanting to avoid thinking about the choices that he was going to have to make all too soon.

Then - because he’d promised - he sent a quick text to his therapist to see if she was free to talk.

She’d given him her cell number months ago, in case he ever needed someone to talk things through with in between their weekly sessions. So far he’d only taken advantage of that once - after Misaki had said yes, and he hadn’t been able to wait until their next session to share the good news. He’d neglected to mention the exact circumstances surrounding his proposal, though; when he’d shown up in her office with his head and hands bandaged he’d had some explaining to do.

He was beginning to think that he might exasperate his therapist. Just a little bit.

But true to her word as always, she called him right back.

“It’s certainly unexpected,” Haruko said thoughtfully after he’d made it through an explanation. “How does this change what we’ve been talking about for the past couple of months?”

“Change? It changes everything, doesn’t it? They’re _here_. Grandfather -”

“Hei, you’ve always known where your family was. You still know their address, you remember their phone number. The choice to reach out to them has always been yours, right?”

“Yeah, I guess; but…”

“So what does their being here in Tokyo, now, change?”

Haruko’s questions always had a way of forcing him to look at angles he’d never considered before. Hei rested his forehead in his hand and thought. “I guess…they still don’t know that I’m alive. Or that I’m here. I can go talk to them, but…I don’t have to. I can still wait until I feel ready. So, that’s the same as it’s always been.”

“Good. What else?”

He could picture the warm, encouraging smile that Haruko always gave him when he was on the right track towards whatever realization she was trying to guide him to. What else?

“Grandfather,” he said after a long moment. “I was - I was worried that he’d passed away, and I’d never get the chance to talk to him again. Now I know. I haven’t missed it.”

It felt as if a huge weight had lifted from his chest, and he could breathe a little easier. That had only been one of his fears, though. “I still don’t know _how_ talk to him. What to say. How do I even start? What do I tell him about my sister?”

The visualization exercise that Haruko had asked him to do - imagining picking up the phone and calling home - was still difficult. Thinking about it in the abstract wasn’t too bad anymore, but when it came down to the actual words and how Grandfather would react, he was at a total loss.

“You start with _hello_ ,” Haruko told him, not for the first time. “And remember, it’s your choice what to say about your past. It’s okay to set your own boundaries, to say _I don_ _’t want to talk about that right now_.”

“But they’ll want to know.”

“Yes, they probably will. That’s okay too. It’s going to be a process, for everyone. Whether you go talk to your grandfather tonight or in five years, you can’t expect everything to just fall into place without putting in some work.

“You’ve changed in the past twelve years - of course you have. But remember, they went through a traumatic event too. Something like that changes people; it can change whole family dynamics. Your grandfather lost his daughter and son-in-law, and his granddaughter. And he lost you. Things haven’t been normal for them either.”

Hei knew that, of course, but he’d never really _thought_ about it before. In his head everything back in Xi’an was exactly the way it had been before he’d left, just with a hole where his immediate family had been.

“Check in with me - what are you thinking right now?”

He ran a hand through his hair again. “I think…that makes sense. I’ve been so afraid of how they’ll react if they find out the truth about me that I didn’t really think how things might have changed for them too. I just - it’s still so hard to think about. But…talking in person might be easier than on the phone.”

He’d never liked using phones anyway - you couldn’t read the other person’s body language, you never knew if they had someone else listening in over their shoulder; there were too many unknowns for Hei to ever really feel comfortable. He always felt more in charge of the conversation - and the situation - in person.

“And,” he continued hesitantly, “how much will I regret it if let him leave without telling him that I’m here?” _And that I miss him_ _…and I’m sorry._

The thought still sent a spike of panic through his blood; he inhaled deeply, trying to regain his calm.

“Let’s reframe the situation,” Haruko said suddenly. “If you wanted to, say, rob a bank - how would you go about doing it?”

“A bank?” Hei blinked at the strange shift in topic. “I mean, it would depend on the bank, and how much time I had to plan…”

“Say you have exactly the amount of time that you need. Step by step, how would you do it?”

He took a moment to glance around the area. He hadn’t heard anyone in the vicinity, but the last thing he wanted was to be overheard planning a bank heist on the phone; even a hypothetical one. It was all clear, yet he lowered his voice anyway.

“First I would gather as much information as I could without setting foot in the bank. Specs on the vault, what kind of security is in place, who the managers are. Then I’d spend a few days watching the employees’ daily routines from a position outside. Once I got a feel for what the busy and slow hours are like, I’d visit once or twice to get a feel for the layout and pick up on any important details I’d missed; with all that I could make a plan. Once I have a plan, all I have to do is follow it.”

“What if, during one of your observations, a security guard sees you and gets suspicious?”

“I play it off,” he answered, wondering where she was going with this. “Wait an extra day or two and come back under a different alias, or when a different guard is on duty.”

“What if you finish your plan and are ready to do the job, but something goes wrong at the last minute?”

“It depends on what goes wrong. I’ll have planned for as much contingency as possible, so that I can adjust on the fly as necessary.”

“If you can’t adjust?”

Hei shrugged. “Abort the mission.”

He could almost see Haruko tapping her pen on her yellow legal pad. “And at some point during your planning, you identify a time when you have to be completely committed - where it’s too late to abort?”

“The point of no return. Yeah.” Just about every mission had a moment where he would need to take a moment to pause and make that go/no-go decision; where either you went all in or you pulled the plug and watched all your careful planning go straight down the drain. But abandoning the mission was better than the alternative.

“So. What’s your plan here? Break it down for me.”

He paused. If it was a bank job… “First, I’d find out where they’re staying. It must be a hotel nearby; maybe the one across the pedestrian bridge. It shouldn’t be too hard to get a room number. Once I have that, I could call from the hotel lobby. I wouldn’t have to tell them I was here.”

His mind started clicking, automatically running through a list of possible contingency plans. “Or maybe I could talk to Jiang first. He - he might be angry with me for leaving, but I don’t think he’ll be disappointed in me. Not like Grandfather might be. And he can tell me if anyone else is here, so I’m prepared.” He hadn’t seen Grandmother, Aunt, or Jiao-tu in the stands, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t come to Tokyo as well. The thought of facing _everyone_ all at once… “Yeah, maybe Jiang first. Then I can decide what to do from there.”

“That sounds like a reasonable plan. There are plenty of places where you can abort the mission before you commit, if it starts to feel too overwhelming.”

“But I still don’t know what to say. What -”

“Hei,” Haruko interrupted gently, “Remember how long you spent planning on how to propose to Misaki - when to do it, and what to say?”

“Yeah.” That topic had dominated their sessions for a full month.

“And what happened?”

He smiled in spite of himself. “That right moment came when I wasn’t expecting it.”

“You adjusted on the fly, you mean. Did you have a perfect speech ready?”

“No. Actually, she didn’t even let me finish before she said yes.”

“You see? Words are less important than you think. Once you get past your fear of meeting your family again, you’ll figure out what to say.”

He rubbed the back of his neck wearily. “And if I don’t? If they want nothing to do with me anymore?”

“You tell me.”

Hei forced himself to think long and hard before answering. “I still have Misaki,” he said at last. “She loves me even though she knows everything that I’ve done. And my friends at work accept me too. Whatever happens I still have the life that I’m building here.”

“Yes,” Haruko said. “And you’ll have opened the door for future dialogue. This isn’t a do or die situation, is it? Maybe now _isn_ _’t_ the right time for you or your family, but maybe next month is. Or next year. You’ll never know until you take this first step - and it’s completely your choice _when_ you take that step.”

That was what Misaki kept telling him. And Haruko was right; if the mission failed, he could always try again, from a new approach. It didn’t have to a flawless plan that succeeded on the first attempt. He could do this.

“Hei? How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” he said. “The panic’s gone, now.” It was, he realized. Heart rate normal, no more cold sweats or trembling in his fingers.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Haruko said, the relief clear in her voice. “What are you going to do after we hang up?”

“Go back inside and watch the rest of the competitions.” He took a deep breath. “Then I’ll figure out how to go talk to Jiang.”


	5. Chapter 5

Hei made his way back to his seat with a second round of apologies. When he reached Kouno, the other man glanced up at him with one eyebrow raised.

"You ran out of here like there was a contractor hot on your tail. Everything okay?"

Hei shrugged and settled into the hard metal seat. "Fine. I just needed some air. It's…been awhile since I've seen anyone from my hometown."

Saitou leaned over and passed him a styrofoam container and a pair of plastic chopsticks. "Kouno told me about your cousin - that's crazy. I bet he'll be happy to see you after so long."

"You _are_ going to go say hi, aren't you?" Kouno asked. "I know it's probably your assassin-y instinct to hide in the shadows and kill anyone who sees your face, but family really ought to be the exception to that. Well," he amended, "some people in my family I wouldn't mind never seeing again. Especially my cousin Shinji. But that's just because he's a lowlife creep."

Hei looked inside the container; they'd saved him some fried octopus. He appreciated that; and the fact that they were purposefully making light of the situation. It made him feel just a little bit more normal. Like he wasn't the only person in the world who'd run away from home to become a professional killer, leaving his family to believe him dead.

"I think I will," he said, pleased with how steady the chopsticks in his hands were. He still wasn't quite used to this whole concept of _feeling_ his emotions, not after spending so long locking them away; the after effects of a panic attack usually left him a little shaky. That would have meant death in his old life; bottling everything up had been the only viable choice. "I just need to figure out how to approach it, exactly."

"Hey, you can introduce your cousin to the Chief!" Saitou said. "I'm sure she'd like to meet one of your family."

"She's in Osaka until Monday, remember?"

He wished he hadn't said no to her offer to come home early. Whether he worked up the courage to talk Jiang today or not, it was going to be a long, lonely night tonight. At least she was going to call when she was done with her after-dinner meetings. He needed to hear her voice again.

"Still, it's a good conversation starter, isn't it? You can do a video call."

Kouno snorted. "What, _hey, meet my super terrifying fiancee?_ "

"Just because you pretend to be afraid of her -"

"I think I should probably work on getting past the whole _hey, I_ _'m still alive_ thing first," Hei interrupted with an inward smile.

"Hey, whatever works for you, man."

They watched the rest of the first bout of matches; then the second bout, with new match-ups, began. Hei provided what commentary he could, but mostly his attention was on those two figures at the bottom of the stands. Uncle would frequently lean over to say something to Grandfather, who would either nod or shake his head once while he focused on whatever was going on in the _sanda_ ring. Hei watched uneasily, hoping - and at the same time not hoping - for a glimpse of Grandfather's face, but he never turned.

During a particularly contentious bout between Japan and Korea, the Japanese fans' cheers and jeers got a bit out of hand. Uncle turned to cast a backwards look that Hei could tell was disapproving even at this distance. Hei sank a little in his seat; but if Uncle even noticed him, he certainly didn't recognize him.

Hei borrowed Saitou's program and flipped through to the page listing the members of each nation's team. Jiang's was the only name he recognized from China; the team appeared to be made up of men and women from all over the country. Only one other person had Xi'an marked as their hometown - a man who Hei didn't know.

That made things a little easier, he thought. He didn't know what he'd do if he had to try and approach Jiang while surrounded by all of his old friends from their wushu classes.

Jiang had apparently won his earlier match against Japan; for the second bout he now faced off against the man from Guam. The first round went much as the previous match had - three feints followed by an all-out attack. The second round, however… Hei frowned as he watched. Jiang didn't bother to feint or even to defend. He leapt right into his offensive strategy, but his opponent was better prepared and was able to lure Jiang in with a few feints of his own and score several easy points.

Hei glanced down at Grandfather. If anything, the old man's posture looked a slightly stiffer, as if he was even more disapproving of his grandson's participation than the competition itself.

As he watched the bout, an occasional touch of panic would begin to creep over the edges of Hei's mind, but he was able to ward it off by mentally rehearsing his reconnaissance plan. If he approached the situation like he would a job, there really was nothing frightening about it.

_Talk to Jiang. Find out who else is here, and how to best meet Grandfather. Easy._

"Damn, crazy fighting skills run in your family, huh Li," Saitou said as the referee's whistle ended the match. Jiang, for all his skill, barely managed to scrape through with a winning score. "Your dad must be pretty good too."

Hei smiled sadly. Kite flying and fly fishing were the most athletic skills his father had possessed. "No. He taught economics. My mom placed at Nationals when she was in high school though."

"Your mom did? Damn, bet she'll get along great with the Chief! Hey, you think maybe they're here too? To see your cousin?"

"They're not here," Hei said, his eyes fixed on Grandfather's distant figure and his voice tight. "They both died the night I left home."

" _Saitou_ ," Kouno hissed, elbowing his partner in the ribs. "Remember what he told us? About his sister?"

"Oh, damn, I forgot. I'm sorry, Li. I didn't mean -"

"It's alright," Hei lied.

But that effectively killed the conversation. The rest of the event passed by with a few more good-natured barbs between Saitou and Kouno, while Hei sat lost in his own mind.

At last the final match ended and spectators began leaving in droves.

"You up for a beer or two before calling it a night?" Kouno asked as he and Saitou both stood.

Hei remained seated, watching the floor below. Uncle and Grandfather had entered the stream of Chinese fans leaving through one of the lower level exits; they wouldn't be passing by his section. The competitors themselves were in a team huddle on the edge of the _taolu_ floor.

"Nah," he said. "Not tonight."

"Why not? Your girlfriend's out of town - live it up a little!"

"I think I'm going to try and talk to my cousin. Maybe. Hey, you don't happen to know where the Chinese team is staying, do you?"

"I don't know - the hotel across the street, probably. Why do you need to know where they're staying?" Kouno jerked a thumb at the arena floor. " Your cousin's right there, just go say hello."

A flutter of panic ran through his veins. "No. I mean, I could, but…"

"Oh right - first I bet you gotta do your recon, map out your contingency plans and exit strategy. Because doing things the easy way is too hard. Typical contractor." He rolled his eyes and headed towards the aisle. "Good luck, man. Give us a call if you want to talk, or just drown your sorrows."

Saitou clapped him on the shoulder as he passed. "Don't worry, Li. You lasted a whole year in Tokyo without us ever arresting you - you can do something simple like this."

"Yeah," Hei said uncertainly as his friends left the stands, wondering how they'd gotten to know him so well. "Thanks."

He stayed in his seat, observing the Chinese team below until the stands had emptied out to the point where he would be a little too noticeable if anyone looked up. Then he gathered his messenger bag and slowly worked his way into one of the trickling lines of people leaving the arena while keeping one eye on his cousin.

He'd just reached the top of the stairs when he saw Jiang and the others break out of their huddle and head towards one of the tunnels that presumably lead to locker rooms below the stands. Jiang was laughing and fake-punching with a couple of his teammates, just as he'd done with Hei and their friends at school. Hei watched a little wistfully, then gave himself a mental nudge to refocus.

That particular tunnel was in the southeast corner of the stadium; Grandfather and Uncle had left to the northwest. That most likely meant that they weren't going to meet up right away.

Hei exited the arena along with the rest of the fans; but instead of heading towards the main exits, he walked down the concourse until he reached the south side and the entrance to the sky bridge, a glass-sided pedestrian walkway that arched over the busy street below and connected the stadium to its official hotel. It was an upscale business hotel that catered to visiting teams and out-of-town fans with deep pockets.

Kouno was most likely right, Hei decided, and the participants in the East Asian Games would be staying there. Uncle hadn't been listed in the program as an official team coach. If he and Grandfather were simply here as spectators, then it was likely that they weren't even at the same hotel as Jiang and the Chinese team; they would have found a cheaper option, maybe a little further away. That would be good. Less chance that he would run into them accidentally. Before he was ready.

He decided it would take Jiang about half an hour to shower and change; then he'd probably want to drop his things off in his room before heading out, either to meet Grandfather and Uncle for a late dinner or celebrate with his friends. With luck, he'd use this walkway to get there.

Choosing a spot against the wall across from the entrance to the bridge and angled a little away, Hei dropped his bag to the ground and settled down next to it. He pulled out his phone, plugged in a pair of earbuds, and stretched his legs out in front of him. Just a guy waiting for his sports-hating girlfriend to come pick him up.

It occurred to him that there might be an underground tunnel connected to the hotel too; any high-profile players or fans staying there might want a more private means of access. If that was the case, Hei would miss Jiang entirely.

After a moment's thought in which he ran through a strategy for both finding and staking out an access-only tunnel, he decided against it. That would mean either stealing a red employee polo and risking discovery on a long stakeout with unknown points of concealment, or using his police ID to bluff his way through and risk having a diligent supervisor check in with _his_ supervisor. Either way, Misaki would be getting a phone call that Hei didn't care to have to explain.

No, he'd stay here. If he didn't see Jiang in half an hour, he would move on to Plan B.

As he waited, he felt that familiar, low level of adrenaline slowly saturating his veins. It was a sort of effortless, focused calm, in which he floated indefinitely yet was poised to react to anything unexpected in an instant. Letting his eyes half-close, he listened to the sounds of the busy stadium, on alert for…

For what? He wouldn't recognize Jiang's voice if he heard it; they'd both been boys the last time they'd been together. Neither of their voices had yet cracked. Would he know if he heard Uncle, or even Grandfather?

A little bit of melancholy shadowed over his calm, but Hei forced it out. _Focus on the job_ , he reminded himself.

After ten minutes, he caught sight of a group of four young men wearing matching blue athletic tracksuits and carrying black gear bags. Fragments of Korean speech drifted over to Hei as they entered the walkway towards the hotel.

_On the right track_ , Hei thought in relief.

He waited another ten minutes; then another. No sign of Jiang or any of the other Chinese athletes. That was okay; onto Plan B. Collecting his things, he stood and strode across the concourse to the pedestrian bridge.

Halfway across, an old man with a bald head passed by going the other direction. Hei's heart nearly stopped.

_Not him_ , he told himself. _Anyway, they_ _'re in a different hotel. Just watch for Jiang_.

Still, he had to take a long moment and stand gripping the handrail with white knuckles while he evened out his breathing and pretended to be watching the lights of the nighttime city outside.

He made it to the hotel lobby without further incident, and took up position in one of the modern armchairs that was scattered between the front desk and the elevators. From here he could see anyone who came through the walkway or left via the elevator.

Of course, that also meant that anyone could see _him;_ but the only people he was worried about seeing him, wouldn't know him if they did. It was safe. Once again, he took out his phone and settled in to wait for one hour.

Half an hour passed. A few Chinese men with duffel bags entered the hotel; Jiang wasn't with them. Out of the corner of his eye, Hei watched the digital display on the elevator after they'd gone in. Twelfth floor.

That was a start, but it was a big hotel, and he'd look suspicious wandering up and down the halls.

Options.

First, keep waiting. He'd given himself an hour, and only half the time had gone by. Pros: it gave him more time to strategize, there were plenty of egress points, and low risk of him being made. Risks: Grandfather could walk in at any time and then what the hell would he do? Option one was workable, but not great.

Second: Steal a bellhop or service uniform and use it as an excuse to knock on doors. Risks: getting caught out by a manager and have the cops, i.e. Misaki, called on him. Even if she didn't hear about it until after the fact, she would still hear about it. Be forced to flee with limited egress.

Also a risk: actually finding Jiang's room. He'd only know it by knocking on the right door, and then there would be no chance of aborting the mission if his nerve failed him. Plus it would mean Jiang opening the door to find Hei standing there looking like an idiot in the uniform of a hotel he didn't actually work at. Okay, scratch option two.

Option three: use the old _I forgot my room key oh and also room number_ ploy. Low risk. The worst that could happen was the desk clerk refusing to give out the information. Definitely workable, though chance of success was maybe fifty-fifty.

Option four: flash his police ID along with an _It_ _'s classified_. High chance of success. High risk, if the clerk called in his badge number and Misaki found out.

He'd never minded impersonating a cop when he was an assassin; now that he was an actual cop, it just felt…wrong.

Hei waited out another fifteen minutes, weighing the risks, before finally landing on the third option, with a choice of following up with the fourth if that didn't work. Misaki would understand if he had to resort to a bit of illegal subterfuge. She _did_ want him to reconnect with his family, after all.

He put his phone back in his bag, which he settled across his chest, and approached the front desk. A friendly-looking young woman with a name badge that read _Kimura_ stood in front of the computer station. She looked up at his arrival and gave him a polite smile.

"Um, excuse me," Hei said with a slightly exaggerated Standard Mandarin accent. "Ms. Kimura? I'm supposed to meet my cousin here - he's competing in the Games, for China - but, uh, he forgot to tell me his room number and I don't know how to get a hold of him."

_What the hell was that?_ Hei mentally cursed himself. That hadn't been the cover story that he'd planned. Why would the clerk hand out someone else's room number? Telling her it was his room and hoping she didn't check for ID was the smart play.

He smiled sheepishly, hoping to mitigate his mistake.

_You can always abort. Just walk away and everything will still be fine._

"Let me see what I can do." Ms. Kimura smiled back. "What's your cousin's name?"

Hei blinked. "Um, Xu."

She clicked away on the keyboard for a minute, then said, "Yes, I have a reservation for Xu - under the Chinese national team?"

"That's him," Hei said, perplexed that it was working.

"Room 1241. Did your cousin do well in his event?"

"Uh, yeah. He won his matches today, so he'll go on to the final rounds on Monday."

"That's fantastic! Enjoy your visit at our hotel."

"Okay. Um, thanks."

Slightly bewildered, Hei headed to the elevators.

_Two stairwells_ , he ran through his head as he pressed the button for the twelfth floor. _If things go south, head to the closest one. Go to the ninth floor. Never hide where anyone would expect to look_.

The digital floor display ticked over from eleven to twelve. The elevator doors pinged open.

_It_ _'s just Jiang_ , Hei told himself as he stepped out and onto the plush carpet that ran the length of the hallway. Good, deep carpet that muffled footsteps well. _He_ _'ll be happy to see you._

The elevators formed a T-junction with the hall. Hei took note first of the fire escape plan on the wall next to his elevator - and the stairwell that was just past room 1241 - then he followed the sign that pointed towards the left and rooms 1220 through 1250.

_He might not even be in his room; you never saw him go through the lobby_.

The hallway stretched out in front of him, dilating and contracting along with his nerves. Hei clutched the strap of his messenger bag, and kept walking.

He would just scope out the area, he decided as room 1230 passed by on his right. A simple recon mission; then tonight, at home, he could come up with a more detailed plan.

As he drew even with the door marked 1241 on his left, his heart rate picked up. He stopped; turned to face it. It looked identical to all the other doors: bland beige with a brushed nickel handle and electronic lock.

He didn't _have_ to talk to Jiang right now. He could come back tomorrow.

Suddenly feeling a little weak, Hei leaned his back against the opposite wall and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

His past was on the other side of that door. Twelve years of questions, of lost time, of lost hope. He'd never expected to see any of his family again. Certainly never expected to seek them out himself. Could he really do this?

The sound of muffled voices drifted through the door. Jiang must be hanging out with his friends from the team, Hei realized with a jolt of unexpected disappointment. He'd _have_ to come back tomorrow; he definitely didn't want to do this in front of strangers.

Still, Hei hesitated for a long moment, trying to see if he could pick his cousin's voice out. But they weren't loud enough; he couldn't even tell how many people were there.

With a weary sigh, he used his shoulders to push off the wall and took one last look at the door.

The handle turned.

Hei froze.

He wasn't prepared for this. The stairs were twenty-five paces away; too far to make it without whoever was opening the door seeing him. And if it was Jiang, if he saw Hei _right outside his door_ \- even if he didn't recognize him - how could Hei explain it tomorrow, when he showed up again?

_Shit_.

Still rooted to the spot, Hei's mind raced for something, anything to say to explain who he was and why he was there.

Then the door swung open.

Grandfather stepped out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Hei finally take the chance to talk to his Grandfather? 
> 
> ...or will he flee through the nearest window instead?

He held an ice bucket in one hand. All of Hei’s careful planning, up in smoke because of a need for ice.

Absolutely nothing in the Syndicate’s training had prepared Hei for this moment.

Grandfather looked so old.

He’d _always_ looked old, of course, but Hei hadn’t been prepared for just how much the years had aged him. Bags of wrinkles surrounded his eyes and mouth, and despite his perpetually straight posture, his shoulders had a weary hunch to them that Hei had never seen before.

Had he shrunk in height? Or was it just that Hei was now several inches taller than him? That in itself was almost too strange.

Everything else was the same, though, from the dun-colored wushu uniform (one size too big) that he’d worn every day of Hei’s previous life, to the sharp look in his rheumy eyes when he noticed Hei standing there, still rooted to the spot.

“What did I tell you boys about loitering in the hall - don’t you have anything better to do?”

Some training, though, was even more deeply ingrained than the Syndicate’s.

 It wasn’t the reprimand so much as that old, familiar dialect and stern tone delivered with every expectation of obedience that shot directly to Hei’s subconscious. His back straightened automatically and his hands practically flew out of his pockets.

“Yes, _shifu_ , sorry, _shifu_! I was just…” he trailed off helplessly, fixed by that implacable gaze. “I was just…trying to find the courage to knock.”

Grandfather’s brow wrinkled even further for a moment; then, as he looked into Hei’s face, his eyes slowly widened. _“…Tian?”_

It was barely more than a whisper, but the sound of his grandfather speaking his name was like waking up from a nightmare he’d hadn’t even realized he’d been in.

“Yeah, Grandfather,” he said weakly. “It’s me.”

The empty ice bucket hit the carpet with a dull thud; then Grandfather had stepped forward and pulled him into a tight embrace.

“I knew you were still alive,” Grandfather was saying, and Hei was shocked to hear the tears in his voice. “You had to be. I knew it.”

Tentatively, Hei returned the hug; as that old familiar scent of pipe tobacco washed over him, he found himself clutching the old man like he was the only life preserver in a storm-tossed sea. He didn’t ever want to let go.

“I missed you,” Hei said, his voice shaking. He hadn’t needed to waste all that time worrying and planning; all he’d needed was to hear Grandfather’s voice again.

Grandfather kissed his cheek, then stepped back to look up ( _up_ ) at him, gripping his upper arms with a wiry strength. “I missed you too; we all did. When did you get so tall?” he added with a proud smile, reaching up to pat the side of Hei’s head.

Again, Hei was shocked to see the tears in his eyes. He’d never, ever seen Grandfather cry. “I don’t know,” he said as a mixture of guilt and stunned relief washed over him. He blinked back the tears in his own eyes. “I guess it’s been a while.”

Grandfather patted him again, smiling broadly. He’d never seen him smile like that before, either. “It has.” Then he frowned abruptly and touched the new scar above his eye. “What happened?”

“Just an accident a few weeks ago; it’s healed now.”

“But you’re alright? You’re well?”

“Yeah. Um, I’m good. Really good.”

“Good, good,” Grandfather said in evident relief. “I’m glad.”

He took his eyes from Hei’s face long enough to glance once up and down the hall. Hei knew exactly what - _who_ \- he was looking for; not knowing what to say, he said nothing.

Neither did Grandfather comment. “Your uncle is inside,” he said instead. “He’ll be happy to see you. Come.”

“Um, what about the ice?” Hei asked as Grandfather took his arm to guide him the five steps into the room.

Grandfather waved an impatient hand. “Ice can wait.”

Still, Hei stooped to pick up the bucket as they entered the room together. Grandfather held onto his arm, as if worried that he might get lost even in such a short distance. Hei didn’t blame him; it was as if only the old man’s touch was keeping him rooted to reality right now.

As the door shut behind them, Hei automatically glanced around the room. It was a standard hotel room, with two double beds, chest of drawers, and  a desk. Two suitcases were open on the floor; with a jolt, Hei recognized them as part of the same, twenty-year-old set that the Xu family had brought on trips up to the lake house every year. Seeing them here, in an impersonal hotel room in Tokyo, was almost surreal.

There was no sign of Uncle, but light and a slightly humid feel came from the crack beneath the closed bathroom door.

“Isn’t Jiang here?” Hei asked as he set the ice bucket down on the chest. It was obvious only two people were staying here;  the team organizer must have let the members book a room for their families under their names; Jiang had a different room, probably shared with a teammate. How had he gotten his intel so utterly wrong? “I thought…”

“That was fast,” Uncle’s voice called from inside the bathroom. The door opened and he stepped out wearing sweatpants and an old t-shirt; a damp towel was around his neck. “Did you -”

He paused at the sight of Hei, brow furrowing. “Who’s this?”

Uncle had changed a bit more than Grandfather, Hei thought. His lean frame had grown a bit of a potbelly, and the head that had appeared shaved from Hei’s vantage point in the stands was dotted with thin, sparse white hairs. He’d normally been so meticulous about keeping his scalp smooth. He’d grown a short beard too, black peppered generously with flecks of white.

Hei’s family had never traveled anywhere save for the little house up at the lake; it was so strange to see them now in a context that wasn’t _home_. If he hadn’t recognized Uncle by his movement and gestures, Hei thought, he certainly wouldn’t have known him face-to-face.

Grandfather smiled at Uncle’s confusion. “You should know. He hasn’t changed that much; looks even more like his father now.”

“Do I?” Hei asked as his heart gave a tiny squeeze.

Uncle’s frown only deepened; then his eyes met Hei’s, and Hei saw the flash of disbelieving recognition. His eyes - of course. How many blue-eyed boys had Uncle known?

“Hi, Uncle,” Hei said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“What - _Tian_? How…?”

“Um, I was at the Games with some friends, and I saw Jiang’s match. Then I saw you two sitting in the stands, so, I thought…I should come say hi.” Hei finished dumbly.

Uncle’s mouth hung open. “You’re…you’re alive.”

“Um, yeah.”

“We _buried_ you.”

Hei shrugged awkwardly. “It wasn’t me. I’m, uh, I’m here.”

Uncle was shaking his head; but he was smiling now. “You are exactly the same,” he said with a laugh before wrapping Hei in a warm hug. Hei was about an inch taller than him too. “You do look so much like Xingkun, I don’t know how I didn’t see it right away.”

“Really?” Hei hadn’t seen a picture of his father in twelve years. Some days it was almost impossible to recall his face.

“Not much of An in you though,” Uncle added a little sadly before squeezing Hei in another hug. “It’s good to see you again, boy. You’re still alive - I can’t believe it! But what’s happened to the way you talk?”

Hei blinked. “The way I - oh.” He only then realized that he’d been using his usual, more neutral accent, the form of Chinese that he always spoke unless his cover story placed him from Beijing or Hong Kong. His family all spoke Shaanxi Mandarin; hearing that accent from Uncle and Grandfather was so _normal_ that he hadn’t even noticed that he was the odd one out now. But it had been so long since he’d last heard it, he didn’t think he could fake it just yet; not without listening to it again for a while.

He rubbed the back of his head, searching for an excuse. “I’ve lived in a few different places; I guess my Shaanxi sort of faded.”

“Faded?” His uncle was looking at him as if he’d just admitted to knowing Russian. Hei made a mental note not to admit to knowing Russian.

Fortunately, Uncle just shook his head. “Where’s your sister?” He glanced around the room as if she might be hiding there somewhere.

Hei felt his expression freeze. “She didn’t come with me,” he said as casually as he could manage.

“Why not? Where is she?”

“I don’t know, exactly,” Hei said. It wasn’t _entirely_ a lie. “But she’s fine. I talked to her earlier.”

“She’s fine too? She’s not - I mean, you both…”

If Hei turned slightly, he could still face Uncle without seeing Grandfather’s gaze on him. “We left together, yeah,” he said shortly. “I just haven’t seen her in a while.”

“You left her on her own? Where -”

Grandfather held up his hand, then patted Hei’s shoulder. “Tian says she’s fine; so she’s fine.”

He took his arm then and guided him over to one of the beds. “How did you know we were in Tokyo?” he asked, perching on the edge of the mattress with one ankle crossed over his knee. The sight spurred such a vivid mental image of him in that exact posture, seated at the breakfast table with the morning paper and a cup of tea that it almost knocked the breath out of Hei’s lungs.

Slowly, he sat down next to Grandfather, while Uncle pulled up the chair from the desk. “I didn’t know. It was just a coincidence I was at the Games, and I recognized Jiang. He still leads off a match exactly the same,” he added with a smile.

“Yes, and he still neglects his defense,” Grandfather said, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

“We’ve been over this,” Uncle said shortly. “With a good enough offensive attack you don’t need defense. Jiang just plays to his strengths; it’s gotten him this far.”

“This far.”

Once again, Hei saw the disapproval in Grandfather’s posture, and got the sense that he’d just stumbled into an old argument. That shook him almost as much as seeing the toll of years on Grandfather’s face; Uncle _never_ argued with his father.

“You didn’t have to come, you know,” Uncle said. “I don’t know why you did, when you hate watching competition so much.”

“So where is Jiang?” Hei interrupted. “I want to see him, too.”

Uncle leaned back in his chair. “He went out with the other boys from the team. They have an early practice tomorrow, so I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“Hm,” was all Grandfather said.

“He’ll be so happy to see you again,” Uncle added with a sad smile. “After…after everything happened and you and Xing disappeared…” He sighed heavily. “We thought you were dead. Jiao-tu didn’t speak to anyone for weeks. Jiang was angry with the whole world, it seemed; he broke his hand punching that old tree in the courtyard you boys liked to climb.”

Guilt knotted in Hei’s stomach. “I’m sorry,” he said. He didn’t know what else to say.

Grandfather squeezed his arm. “Years ago,” he said. “Never mind all that. You didn’t know we were in Tokyo? What brings you to the city, then?”

 _And not home._ The unspoken words hung in the air between them. “Um, I live here now,” Hei said. “I’ve been here about a year.”

Uncle frowned. “A year? You’ve been missing for _twelve_. Where have you been? Why haven’t you called?”

They were all questions that Hei had no answer for, and had been dreading hearing. He wiped his hands on his jeans. “Just…traveling. Working. It was never really a good time to - to reach out. I’ve been thinking about calling a lot lately, but I didn’t - didn’t really know what to say.”

“Didn’t know what to say? You say _I_ _’m sorry for letting you all believe I was_ dead!”

“I am sorry,” Hei said quietly. How could he explain that he’d only been trying to protect them?

Grandfather, however, cast his son a stern look. “Hong, let the boy be. He’s here now.”

“How’s everyone back home?” Hei asked, desperate to change the subject. “Jiao-tu, and Aunt…”

“Fine, fine,” Grandfather told him lightly, as if it had only been a week or two since Hei had seen them last. “Grandmother sprained her ankle pulling weeds in the garden, but it’s healing well.”

Hei exhaled slowly. Grandmother was still alive.

“She should stop working in there every day,” Uncle was saying. “It’ll be her hip next time. Yafang can take care of the weeds. The doctor said -”

Grandfather waved an irritable hand. “What do doctors know? Your mother finds peace in her garden; let her have that.”

Hei remembered Grandmother’s garden. It was a tiny, walled-in square just to the left of the courtyard gate with its own rounded arch entrance. Despite the small area, it held a handful of pear trees and several herb and vegetable beds that Grandmother tended with devotion.

With a twist in his gut, he remembered the handkerchief full of pears that she had given him to bring home to his mother on that night. He and Xing had eaten them in a deserted bus station across town the next day. The fruit had tasted bitter in his mouth, but he didn’t think that was Grandmother’s fault.

“Everything alright, son?”

Hei glanced up to see Grandfather gazing at him in concern. “Fine,” he said quickly. “I’m glad everyone’s well.”

Uncle fixed him with a steady gaze that was unexpectedly like Grandfather’s. “You…know about your parents, of course.”

Hei nodded, unable to find his voice. Uncle continued to gaze at him, as if expecting him to volunteer an explanation. Hei was dreading the question that was bound to come at any moment.

Grandfather squeezed his arm again - but whatever he might have said was cut off by the sound of a phone vibrating.

Hei let out a breath in relief, and started to reach down to his bag; then the sound came again, and he saw a cell sitting on the desk, next to a clunky laptop computer.

Uncle leaned over and picked up the phone. “Oh, we were supposed to sign on fifteen minutes ago; Jiao-tu’s getting impatient.”

“You have a laptop?” Hei asked dumbly. “You don’t even own a color TV…”

“Of course we have a color TV,” Uncle snorted. “Got it, oh, eight or ten years ago? The laptop is Jiao-tu’s, from high school. We bought her a new one when she started college.”

“College?” Obviously he knew that his cousin was older now, but the idea of her being grown-up enough to go away to a university threw him for a moment. Jiang was basically just an older version of the boy that Hei had known; how much had Jiao-tu changed?

“Xi’an Jiaotong,” Uncle said with a touch of pride. “She’s in her third year. I’m sure she’ll be excited to tell you all about it, when I get this thing figured out.” He had opened up the laptop and turned it on, typing in the login with two fingers.

“When…you mean _now_?” Hei had only planned on speaking to Jiang tonight; running into Grandfather instead had been overwhelming enough. Then Uncle, now Jiao-tu… His pulse thrummed in his veins. He couldn’t handle this.

Grandfather patted his knee. “You do remember what today is.”

“What - oh. Yes.” In the shock of the last couple of hours, he’d almost forgotten.

“We have a small family gathering every year on her birthday, to remember her. Yours too.”

His too? “Oh.”

“Grandmother was upset that we’d be away this year; we almost didn’t come to the Games. So we agreed to have a video call. I suppose it’s lucky we decided to come after all.” He smiled warmly at Hei.

“Jiang wasn’t going to miss out,” Uncle said. “And I wasn’t going to let him come all the way here alone. You’re the only one who was undecided.”

Undecided? Grandfather?

“Shouldn’t Jiang be here then?” Hei asked, his stomach a tight ball of nerves.

“He should,” Grandfather said shortly. “He knows.”

Again Hei got the feeling that he’d stumbled into a years-long disagreement. It made him feel…disconnected. As if he was standing on the bank of a river while everyone else drifted by, continuing their lives while he remained stuck in place, staring at a past that they had all left long ago.

“Ah, here it is,” Uncle said, ignoring Grandfather’s comment. He’d opened up a video chat program; the screen finished buffering to reveal an image right out of Hei’s childhood: the Xu family living room.

It looked exactly the same. The same patched brown sofa, the same wood paneled wall behind it; the same watercolor of Huashan Mountain that Grandmother’s grandmother had painted.

And there, sitting on the sofa, were Aunt and Grandmother.

They both looked the same and yet different. Aunt’s face had gotten rounder, her cheeks heavier beneath a new pair of reading glasses; though her hair, done up in metal curlers, was as jet black as Hei remembered. Grandmother still wore the same style of dress that had been out of fashion even when Hei had been young. With her shockingly white hair and tired eyes, she looked to have aged even more than Grandfather.

For one excruciating moment, Hei almost expected to see his mother sit down next to Grandmother to wrap her arms around her shoulders and kiss her cheek as he’d seen her do a hundred times when he was young.

He ran his hands down his face, hoping to somehow erase the image from his mind before it burned a hole through his heart.

Aunt leaned forward and stared into the screen; Hei expected her to comment on the presence of a stranger, but instead she said, “Tu, I think they’re here.”

“ _Finally_ ,” came a peevish voice from off screen. “Quan’s picking me up in like, ten minutes.”

“Quan?” Uncle frowned at the screen. “Who’s this? What happened to Chen?”

“Oh my god. Quan, from my chemical engineering class. I broke up with Chen _days_ ago.”

A young women plopped into view on the sofa; Hei stared. Was that his cousin? Gone were the plastic-framed glasses, chubby cheeks, and oversized t-shirts. The girl on the screen was wearing a slim-fitting, trendy dress, with hair and makeup to match. Shiny earrings dangled from her ears. The girl who was terrified of needles had gotten her ears pierced?

That scowl was the same though; Hei had to smile.

None of them seemed to notice his presence, though. Maybe the webcam was broken. Relief washed through him at the idea. He could just talk, without them seeing him. He didn’t have to talk at all.

“Dad, you forgot to turn on your video!” Jiao-tu sighed in obvious annoyance as she dashed Hei’s hopes. “I want to see what Tokyo looks like - since I’ll never get to go myself…”

“Oh. Hang on…” Uncle leaned forward, hunting for the right icon to click.

“It’s only a hotel room,” Aunt told her. “What is there to see?”

“I know, but it’s a hotel room in _Tokyo_. Grandfather, have you seen the Gate? Is it as huge in person as it is in pictures?”

“It looks the same as the pictures,” Grandfather said mildly. He squinted at the screen. “I don’t see Song; is she there?”

Jiao-tu shook her head, bobbed black hair swishing around her chin. “I think this fight was worse than the last one. Jiang isn’t there either, is he?”

“Hm,” was all Grandfather said.

 Jiao-tu perked up suddenly. “I bet you guys wish you were home, though!” She reached for the laptop; the camera shook and swayed as she carried it across the room, then turned it around to face an old wooden desk that Hei didn’t remember being there before. “Can you see? Grandmother made _tangyuan!_ Bet you can’t find that in Japan!”

Hei’s heart caught in his throat. There was a plate of _tangyuan_ , yes. Next to it was a bundle of incense; behind that, a photo of a nine-year-old Xing. And himself. And…

“Is that Dad’s desk?” he asked, abruptly recognizing it - and wanting to avoid looking at that last picture and the two familiar-yet-not faces that it held.

Jiao-tu’s chatter stopped mid-flow. There a silent pause; then she asked hesitantly, “Who…who else is with you?” at the same time that Uncle said “Ah, here we go,” and clicked the button to turn on the video.

“Turn the screen around, _Xiao_ -tu,” Grandfather told her gently.

The world swung dizzily as she did as she was asked; her face, suddenly pale beneath the makeup, filled the screen.

In the corner of their own screen was a small box containing the video that Jiao-tu was seeing. Hei avoided looking at it; he never could stand seeing photos of himself, couldn’t even look at his entire face in the mirror. He would focus on just his chin while he was shaving, or only his hair while he was combing it. Not the eyes. Never the eyes.

Even so, he could tell that he himself was almost center in the screen, between Grandfather and Uncle.

His cousin’s hand flew to her mouth. The screen trembled; then it and she dropped to the floor.

She managed to keep the laptop upright in her lap; even so, the video went slightly askew as Jiao-tu covered her mouth with both hands, tears welling in her eyes as she stared at Hei and sobbed.

“Tu, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Aunt dashed across the room and knelt beside Jiao-tu, who only shook her head and pointed at the screen. Aunt squinted at it through her glasses. “Who is that?” She reached up and patted her curlers in obvious embarrassment. “Hong, you didn’t say there would be anyone else here…”

“I’ve seen you in curlers plenty of times, Aunt,” Hei said quietly. “You look fine.”

For a long moment, she stared at him uncomprehending. Then her eyes widened and her hands flew to her mouth in a perfect imitation of her daughter.

“Yafang?” Grandmother called out in the worried voice that he’d heard all to often, when he and Jiang came inside after a round of roughhousing in the courtyard in search of bandages for their fresh cuts and scrapes. “Jiao-tu? What is it?”

Wordlessly, tears streaming down her cheeks, Aunt picked up the laptop and carried it back to the table in front of the couch. She angled it so that the screen was facing Grandmother.

Hei shifted uncomfortably, wishing everyone would stop staring at him. Why couldn’t it have just been Jiang in the room? Grandfather wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“That isn’t Jiang, is it?” Grandmother said in confusion.

“It’s Tian,” Grandfather said gently. “He’s alive.”

Grandmother’s face went deathly pale. “No,” she said. “No, it isn’t. It can’t be.”

“It’s him, Mom,” Uncle said, smiling. “Showed up at the door about half an hour ago.”

“Hi, Grandmother,” Hei said, taking a deep breath to keep his voice even. “How’s your ankle? Grandfather said you hurt it.”

Grandmother pressed her palm to her chest. “Tian?” she whispered as Aunt wrapped her in a supportive hug.

“Yeah.”

She reached out a hand as if she could reach through the screen and touch him. “You’re really alive? Where’s An? And your sister?”

“It - it’s just me,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Grandfather’s hand on his shoulder was solid and reassuring. “What are you apologizing for, son?”

“What do you mean it’s just you?” Jiao-tu felt her way onto the sofa next to her mother, a box of tissues clutched to her stomach. She sniffed as the tears continued to leak from her eyes. “Where’s Xing?”

“Not here,” he said sadly. “She’s alright though; don’t worry about her.”

“Really? She’s okay?”

“Thank god,” Aunt breathed, still holding a shaking Grandmother.

“Yeah.” The guilty knot in Hei’s stomach twisted even tighter, but he ignored it. It was better than the real truth. He thought he felt Grandfather’s gaze on him; he ignored that too.

“Why do you sound funny?” Jiao-tu asked abruptly, her nose wrinkling. “You have a weird accent now.”

“You’re the one who sounds funny,” he retorted. “No one outside of Xi’an talks like that.” Which was why he’d worked so hard to erase it from his voice.

She giggled through her tears, sounding for the first time like the little girl he’d known. “Stupid. You’d better learn how to talk right before you come home, or everyone will think you’re a foreigner or something.”

Ah. That was another topic he’d been hoping to avoid; for now, at least. “Yeah,” he said. “Um.”

He was saved from having to explain by the sharp buzzing of a phone - this time it _was_ his. “Hang on.” He fished it out of his bag and looked at the screen.

“Who’s messaging you this late?” Uncle chided. “Your friends must be as bad as Jiang’s.”

“No, look at his face!” Jiao-tu was practically overcome with a fit of the giggles. “It’s a _girl_ , it has to be!”

Hei glanced up in surprise; he couldn’t stop a small smile. “Well, yeah. My fiancee, actually; wondering when I’ll be home.”

 _Caught the last train out of Osaka. Home in three hours. Where are you?_ was what her message said; he felt a flood of love and appreciation as he read over the words a second time.

Jiao-tu gasped; her hands flew to her mouth again, but Hei could tell that beneath them she was beaming. “Fiancee?? Oh my god what’s her name? Is she pretty? Where’d you meet her?”

“Misaki,” Hei said, typing out a quick reply. _Still out. Heading home soon._ _…Thank you_. “I met her, well, through work I guess.”

“Oh, that’s so romantic! When’s the wedding?”

“Um, we haven’t set a date yet,” Hei said, acutely aware once again of everyone’s eyes on him. “But probably June.”

“June?” Aunt placed a hand to her cheek. “That’s so soon! I don’t know if the house will be ready - we were going to fix up the kitchen this summer.”

“I cut back my roses  too,” Grandmother said, looking distraught. “There won’t be enough blooms; we may have to buy the flowers. Does your fiancee have an almanac? Yafang, have you seen mine?”

“I think it’s in the den - no, that’s not true, I loaned it to Qian. Oh dear, we haven’t had so many people over in ages…”

Hei listened to his family worrying, nonplussed. “You don’t have to do anything,” he tried to reassure them. “We’re getting married here.”

Silence fell in both rooms. Aunt and Grandmother stared blankly; Uncle frowned at him, while Grandfather’s hand on his shoulder tightened. With a growing dread Hei realized what he’d just said; shit, he hadn’t meant it like that.

“I just mean,” he said, “it makes the most sense to do it here. Misaki grew up in the city, and there’s a temple where she wants to have the ceremony…it’s important to her.”

Aunt looked slightly mollified by the explanation, but Uncle’s frown deepened. “You’re marrying a Japanese girl?”

“She’s Japanese, yeah. We were - we were talking about visiting Xi’an after the wedding though.”

“After the wedding?” Grandmother asked thoughtfully. “It wouldn’t be very traditional, but perhaps we could have the wedding banquet then…”

“The house would still be a mess,” Aunt reminded her.

“Um,” Hei said, and hating himself for it. “Actually…I was hoping…” He took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to tell anyone else that you talked to me. That I’m still alive. Not right now, anyway.”

Another long silence greeted those words.

“What are you talking about, Tian?” Uncle said sharply. “Why wouldn’t we tell anyone?”

Hei sighed. How to explain this? “You said you buried me. According to the government, I’m dead. Bringing me back after all this time would just - it would be complicated. There’s some things I have to figure out first.”

Actually, this problem was one that he hadn’t considered at all; it was so far beyond the first barrier of picking up the phone and calling home that he hadn’t bothered with it.

“Wait,” Jiao-tu said slowly, her nose wrinkling again. “That’s right. But you’re in Japan now. How did you get in without a passport?”

“Um. I mean, it’s not impossible, obviously, or I wouldn’t be here,” Hei fudged, refusing to so much as glance in Grandfather’s direction. “It’s just…complicated.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Had coming here had been a mistake? He was _never_ going to have the answers that they needed.

Uncle opened his mouth to speak, but Grandfather shook his head. “Details,” he said in that tone that meant that the discussion was over. “Not important. It’s late; Hong, you need to be up early for Jiang’s practice, and you girls should go to bed. Jiao-tu, you’re keeping your date waiting.”

She scowled. “I don’t care how long he waits; I’m talking to Tian!” The scowl didn’t last for long, though, as her lower lip began trembling and a fresh tear trickled down her cheek. “Grandfather, it’s _Tian_!”

“And he has someone waiting for him too.” Grandfather squeezed his shoulder.

“You’re going to let us meet her, right?” Jiao-tu sniffed. “Your fiancee?”

“Yeah. She wants to meet everyone.”

“Good. What’s your phone number? I’m not letting you disappear again.”

“I’m not going to disappear,” Hei told her quietly.

He said his good nights to Grandmother and Aunt, struggling to blink back his own tears and remember what Haruko had told him. Time. It would take time before things would feel easy again.

“Jiang’s going to want to see you,” Uncle said as he powered down the laptop. “You’re welcome to come to the team practice in the morning. You can keep Grandfather company in the stands.”

Inwardly, Hei blanched at the idea. He wanted to see Jiang, yes, but not in the middle of a busy practice surrounded by strangers.

“I’m not going to the morning practice,” Grandfather said.

Uncle frowned at him. “You’re not? Why?”

“I’ve seen Jiang drill a thousand times. I haven’t seen Tokyo yet though. I think I’ll take a walk in the morning.”

“By yourself? Dad, it’s not safe here; you’re not as young as you think you are -”

“It’s not so bad,” Hei said gratefully. “I know the city pretty well; a walk sounds nice.”

Grandfather squeezed his shoulder. “Good. After breakfast.”

The hug that Grandfather gave him as he left the hotel room was, if possible, even tighter than the first had been.

Hei was torn; part of him felt that if he walked away now, it would be just like that night twelve years ago and he would never see his family again. After he’d just gotten them back…the thought made him almost physically ill.

The other part of him, however, was quickly becoming overwhelmed by the flood of emotion that he’d gone through tonight and was desperately urging him to run before he drowned in that sea.

“We’ll see you tomorrow?” Grandfather whispered, letting go of Hei at last.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice thick. “Tomorrow. I promise.”

He walked the whole way home, hoping that the time alone in the brisk spring night would help clear his head. How many years had he spent walking alone like this, under the uncaring light of the false stars, wishing that he could go home again?

Home. Home was where Misaki was, now; that would always be true. But for the first time since it had become true, he felt utterly, wretchedly guilty for it.

When Misaki finally arrived home at their apartment late that night, she found him sitting on the bathroom floor, with the door closed and the lights off. She’d found him like this once before, when an exceptionally bad night terror had left him convinced that he was actually being murdered. Having that one extra door between him and the rest of the world had made him feel safer.

“Hei?” she called softly, opening the door a crack. “Can I come in?”

Hei squinted against the bright light leaking into the room from the hall. He felt safest when she was by his side. He held out his hand in answer.

Misaki slipped in and shut the door behind her. Finding his hand in the dark, she grasped it and lowered herself next to him. Hei wrapped his arms around her.

“You talked to them?”

He nodded, knowing she would feel the motion. She’d probably known the answer before she’d even asked.

“How was it?”

It took him a moment to find his voice. “Good. It was good.”

“I’m glad.” She stroked his cheek. “Then what’s wrong?”

He gave a shuddering sigh. “They weren’t there. They should have been; but they weren’t.”

She didn’t ask who he meant; she had to know. Instead she gently pulled his head to her breast and held him while he sobbed in the dark.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack, sorry about the long wait for this chapter! I've been swamped with work and travel...and it's about to get worse. Super big thanks to everyone who's commented on this story; I'm glad it's getting such great feedback, considering practically none of the canon characters are even in this. Please continue to comment/review; it really makes my day and reminds me why I write in the first place. I'm going to do my best to respond to everyone, but see above re: work and travel swampage. But I'll try.

Hei woke with a start to find himself in a small, dark space. His heart thudded against his ribs as his mind went into overdrive cataloging his surroundings. A small strip of light leaked in from beneath what must be a door about four feet away. He was in a room; a closet, maybe. No sound came from outside the room.

He was alone, then - that was good. It gave him time.

He turned his focus inward. He was sitting on a hard floor, wedged between two cold surfaces. His hands and feet were free; that was good too.

There was something heavy resting in his lap; but no sooner had his mind registered that fact than two sounds sent a spike of alertness through his blood: an angry buzz in his back pocket followed by a soft sigh.

Hei exhaled the breath that he'd been holding in one long sigh of his own as reality pushed its way to the front of his consciousness.

Of course; he was at home. They'd fallen asleep in the bathroom last night. Or was it still the same night? He had no idea what time it was.

His phone vibrated again. Hei lifted his arm from Misaki's waist - she was the warm weight curled in his lap - and twisted awkwardly, trying to get his hand to his pocket between the bathtub and wall. Misaki murmured sleepily at his movement, but thankfully she didn't wake.

Finally freeing the phone, he glanced at the screen. He had seventeen missed messages, all from - he squinted at the number - Jiao-tu? She wasn't the one calling, however. Hei recognized that prefix as belonging to Shinjuku Police Station. Frowning in mild confusion, he answered quietly, "Li."

"Li - ah, sorry to bother you so early in the morning. I hope I didn't wake you?"

The voice was familiar, but it took Hei a moment before he could attach a name and face to it - Officer Yokoi. His unit occasionally provided backup for Section Four's operations.

"No," Hei lied, rubbing his forehead wearily. "I was awake. How can I help you?"

"Ah, I just need a small favor," the officer said. "We arrested a few Chinese nationals early this morning - disorderly behavior. Nothing serious; we turned four of them loose already. But one got pretty belligerent, so we put him in lockup for a few hours. It's not worth it to charge him formally with anything, but I don't want him back out on the street without at least some kind of verbal warning, you know? Problem is, he doesn't speak a word of Japanese."

"I see," Hei said, an uncomfortable knot forming in his gut. Any other day he would have agreed to help right away; this morning he had no desire to leave his safe - if uncomfortable - bathroom. "The Embassy should be able to send over an interpreter when it opens."

Yokoi's voice turned a little awkward. "Yeah. The thing is, Duty Sergeant Nakazawa comes on shift in an hour, and he's a real stickler for protocol. If this guy's still here, we'll have to process him. Which means paperwork, and reports…and he's a foreigner, so that's a whole other mess…"

"Yeah. Alright. Give me half an hour."

"Thanks man, I owe you big time for this!"

"Yeah," Hei said uncharitably.

He hung up the phone and leaned his head back against the hard wall, feeling exhausted. Had he slept at all last night? He'd _used_ to be no stranger to sleeping in uncomfortable positions, but it had been awhile since he'd been forced to. A muscle in his lower back was already starting to spasm.

Misaki twisted a little in his lap. "Is there something wrong?" she asked, her voice heavy with sleep.

Hei rubbed her back. "No. It's nothing; I just need to run down to Shinjuku station."

"Mm. Now? It's so late…"

"It's six in the morning," he told her, wishing that the morning hadn't come quite so soon. "I need to shower before I leave; you should go back to sleep. In a bed."

"I like it here." She pressed her face into his chest.

Hei smiled and kissed the top of her head. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For coming home. You didn't need to."

"Yes, I did." She sat up with a weary sigh. "I should call in to my meetings this morning. After a nap, maybe," she added with a yawn.

"Meetings?" Hei asked, disappointment tinging his voice.

Misaki gave his arm a squeeze. "You need to have some time with your grandfather; just the two of you. I don't want to get in the way of that. I should be able to sneak away this afternoon and come meet everyone then, okay?"

"Oh. Okay."

"But if it's too much, just text me the extraction code and I'll call right away."

Hei couldn't see her face in the dark bathroom, but he could hear her smile. In his first few months with the police, he'd found it difficult to figure out how to act in social situations - because for the first time in his life, he _wasn_ _'t_ acting. They'd established a code word to use if he started to get overwhelmed, to signal to Misaki that she needed to intervene before it got to be too much.

He'd never needed to use it thus far; _she_ had, though - twice. Both times at police functions where her patience with her more socially-conservative superiors had worn too thin too quickly. Fortunately she'd recognized it and sought help from Hei before she got herself fired for saying the wrong thing to the wrong person; though the second time had been a close call.

"Okay," Hei told her now. "I'll probably be at the training gym after lunch; or maybe the hotel. I don't know."

"I'll text you." She gave him a quick kiss. "Go do what you need to do; I'm going to go to bed. I'll see you this afternoon."

It wasn't that he was physically tired, Hei decided as he stepped into the shower for a quick wash. He was emotionally drained, in a way that he hadn't felt - hadn't _allowed_ himself to feel - in years. Not since the day he'd woken up on the edge of the Heaven's Gate disaster area with his sister's power but not _her_ , and had felt so completely, utterly empty that he'd decided he must be a contractor.

He'd lived like that for five years, existing in a sort of neutral space between intense anger and overwhelming grief. Both emotions had begun to leak back into his consciousness after he'd arrived in Tokyo; why, he wasn't sure. Maybe the close proximity of the Gate allowed him to sense his connection to Bai. Maybe it was the people that he met here. Meeting Misaki had certainly changed his life in every way possible.

When he entered the bedroom to grab a fresh change of clothes, she was curled up on the bed, sound asleep. She hadn't even bothered to change out of the suit that she'd been wearing last night. At the sight of her a surge of love and gratefulness rose in his heart; it wasn't quite enough to fill the emptiness that last night had left him with, but it was something. Whatever happened between him and his family, he would always have her.

Carefully he pulled the duvet up around her shoulders and smoothed down her hair; then he dressed himself and headed out.

The sun had risen, lightening the sky to a pale blue; however it had yet to peek above the Gate's wall to the east, and Hei made his trek to Shinjuku Police Station in gray shadow.

It was a short walk, fortunately. Fortunately, because Hei really did not want any extra time to dwell on that niggling knot in his stomach. He was tempted to dismiss it as paranoia; but as he'd learned many, many times, discounting his gut instinct was usually a bad idea.

The station was quiet when Hei walked in. No one was in the waiting area; over the half-wall separating the public space from the police bullpen he saw a handful of officers who were either dozing or talking quietly at their desks, ready to end their shifts after a long night. He waved to a couple who he recognized, then approached the sergeant's desk where Officer Yokoi sat reading a book - and pressing an ice pack to his left eye.

Yokoi glanced up, relief flooding his face the sight of Hei. "Li - thanks for coming!" he said, dropping the ice pack. "You're really saving my ass here."

Hei blinked. "What happened?" The officer's eye was practically swollen shut; a large purple bruise was already darkening his cheekbone.

Yokoi shrugged. "Like I said, belligerent. He was drunk off his ass, though, so I'm willing to let it slide if I get an apology. You'll read him the riot act?" The man looked at Hei and frowned. "Or I can spell things out for him, and you just translate."

"I'll make sure he gets the message," Hei said. He didn't have the energy to make the usual self-deprecating joke about his seeming harmlessness. If he was wrong, the emotionless face of the Black Reaper would be more than enough to frighten this detainee. If he was right - well, then that would be a different conversation entirely. "What's this guy's name?"

" _Ku_ something? Can't pronounce it. Here." Yokoi slid a passport across the desk.

With a sinking feeling, Hei picked it up - and knew that he'd been right to be paranoid.

There were two holding cells in the back of the station. Yokoi buzzed Hei into the corridor that fronted both cells. At the far end of the corridor was another, steel-reinforced door that led to the specially-equipped cell designed to hold contractors. These two were for normal humans.

The first was empty; Hei presumed it must be reserved for female detainees. In the second cell, Jiang was stretched out on a hard concrete bench, snoring loudly.

Hei signaled to the security camera in the corner; the latch on the barred door clicked and he let himself into the cell. He walked over to the foot of the bench, then folded his arms, leaned against the wall, and stared at his cousin.

He thought that he would have recognized Jiang even without having seen him fight yesterday. Wearing a pair of track pants and t-shirt, his hair buzzed short, Jiang was a twenty-four-year-old version of his twelve-year-old self. Seeing him lying there snoring, mouth agape and shirt rucked up over his stomach, sent a flood of childhood memories racing through Hei's mind, memories he hadn't even known that he still possessed.

What the hell was Jiang doing here, in jail - getting drunk and punching a cop? Hei remembered Uncle's comment last night about Jiang's reaction to his and Xing's disappearance, Grandfather's silent disapproval at Jiang's absence. Was this Hei's fault, somehow? There'd been an unfamiliar tension in the family that he'd noticed but been unable to explain. It certainly hadn't been there twelve years ago. Had his disappearance caused so much to change?

Then again, he remembered, Jiang had always been brash and hot-tempered. Maybe this had been inevitable even all those years ago.

He nudged Jiang's foot with his own. "Wake up, Jiang; time to get out of here," he said in Mandarin.

Jiang rolled over onto his side. "Shut up and let me sleep, Jap bastard," he muttered without opening his eyes.

Hei narrowed his eyes. He lifted his foot again. This time he planted it squarely on his cousin's hip and shoved.

Jiang hit the concrete floor with a crash of limbs and a muffled curse. "The fuck was that for?" he growled as he pushed himself up into a sitting position and blinked blearily. His eyes landed on Hei, who was still standing against the wall with his arms folded. "Fucker! I'll break your goddamn head!"

"You missed Xing's birthday last night," Hei said quietly.

Jiang froze, mouth hanging open. Hei could see the confusion warring with disbelief in his eyes, and had to suppress a twinge of nerves.

"Shit," Jiang said at last. "Fuck. No way. You died. You fucking _died!_ _"_

"Not yet." Hei took a step forward and reached out a hand to help Jiang up.

Jiang grasped the proffered hand, his brow furrowing as he stared into Hei's eyes - then abruptly he lashed out his leg, catching Hei behind the ankle.

Hei had just enough warning to throw his weight behind him; instead of falling on his rear he rolled backwards and sprang lightly to his feet in time to catch the punch that Jiang, now on _his_ feet, threw at his unprotected face.

They exchanged a flurry of rapid blows, each punch or kick coming close to landing before being blocked at the last moment. Hei countered a left hook with his own jab followed by a roundhouse kick that barely avoided scraping the wall of the holding cell. His cousin ducked the jab and blocked the foot strike with crossed wrists. As Hei was recovering his balance, Jiang cut in with an open-palm strike aimed at Hei's sternum.

Hei instinctively shifted his weight in anticipation of catching the arm between his biceps and side ribcage, an immobilizing move that he'd learned studying Muy Thai; but even as he did so he realized that he was about to snap Jiang's elbow.

He had only a moment to be horrified at the thought; then instead of bringing up his arm to complete the move, he let his weight carry him slightly too far forward. Jiang's punch glanced off his shoulder, completing the job of throwing him off balance. Hei spun and landed hard on his ass, breathing hard. He raised both hands in mute surrender.

Jiang leaned his hands on his knees, just as winded as Hei. "Damn," he began, "You -"

The door to the main lobby banged open and two uniformed officers rushed in, hands on their still-holstered weapons. " _Back against the wall!_ " the lead officer - Harata, Hei thought his name was - barked at Jiang.

Shit; he'd forgotten about the security camera.

Eyes wide, Jiang stumbled back a step, clearly understanding the meaning if not the words.

"It's alright!" Hei told Harata quickly from his seat on the ground. "He wasn't - I know him. We're old friends."

Harata glanced between the two of them, frowning. "You sure? This guy nearly decked Yokoi, even though he could hardly stand straight."

"I know. He's going to apologize. Just give us a couple minutes."

"Alright…" Harata fixed Jiang with a scowl, then he and the other officer left.

"Fuckers," Jiang said, his middle finger following them out the door. "What'd you say to them to make them leave? How the hell do you know how to speak Japanese? Fuck that, how are you even alive? And _here_?"

He reached down to help Hei up. Hei grasped his hand; then lashed out with his foot and hooked Jiang's ankle. His cousin was caught completely off guard; with another curse he crashed onto his back next to Hei.

"Dog!" Jiang growled; then he burst out laughing. Hei couldn't help smiling at the familiar sound.

"Damn," Jiang said, sitting up and rubbing his back, "You haven't lost your moves! Shit, I think you might even've gotten better!"

"Maybe," Hei agreed mildly.

Jiang shook his head. "You're actually alive. _Shit_ \- does Grandfather know? Or Dad?"

"I talked to them last night. The whole family, actually. Grandfather was wondering where you were."

The smile faded from Jiang's face. "I hate that fucking ritual; they know that. Like lighting a candle and baking fucking _tangyuan_ will do anything to bring Xing back. Or you, or -" He broke off with a sharp laugh. "The hell do I know - you _are_ here. Maybe it had a point after all!"

Hei smiled sadly.

"Where's Xing?" Jiang glanced around the holding cell, as if, magically, she might be hiding in one of the corners.

"Not here." Hei stood and held out his hand - palm up, their old sign to signal a truce. Jiang nodded and clasped his hand; Hei pulled him to his feet.

"Not _here_ , here, or…"

"Not in Tokyo." If Xing could be said to exist anywhere, then it was within the Gate; and while the Gate was _surrounded by_ Tokyo, it wasn't _part_ of Tokyo. Kanami had given him an entire lecture on that small detail once, which Hei had only half-followed. Despite his power, quantum physics wasn't exactly his strong suit.

Hei pushed open the cell door and strode out into the corridor.

"Um," Jiang said, following behind, "We can't just walk out of here, can we?"

"You know the officer you punched in the face last night?"

Jiang scratched his head. "I punched a cop? Is that why they threw me in here?"

"Yeah. That's what generally happens when you punch a cop."

"Then where the hell are those other losers? They ditched me? Fuckers."

"He said you could leave as long as you apologize; he called me in to translate."

"Apologize? For something I don't even remember? Bullshit!"

Hei shook his head, a smile threatening to break through his annoyance. This was Mrs. Chang's flower garden all over again. "Just do it. Ow!" He flinched, rubbing his shoulder where Jiang had just punched him.

"That's for leaving and making us all believe you were dead, you fucking bastard!"

Hei glanced at his cousin and was startled to see tears pricking his eyes. Jiang aimed another punch; Hei didn't move to block it. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"You'd better be!" Jiang punched him again; then abruptly pulled him into a fierce hug. "I'm glad you're not dead," he whispered; then just as abruptly he let go and punched Hei one more time. "Bastard. C'mon, let's get out of here."

Officer Yokoi was still at the front desk. Harata was with him now; the two men were studying something on Harata's cell phone intently.

Yokoi looked up when Hei and Jiang approached. "Everything alright?" he asked, looking between them.

"Yeah," Hei said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. He shrugged. "Family."

The officer raised his eyebrows. "What, really?"

"Um, long story. Anyway, Jiang's ready to apologize now." He turned to his cousin, who was glaring at Yokoi with his arms folded. "You just have to apologize, then we can go," Hei reminded Jiang in Mandarin.

Jiang continued to glare at the officer and gave a definitely-not-contrite half-bow. "I'm sorry your face got in the way of my fist."

Yokoi raised a skeptical eyebrow, and glanced at Hei, who fixed a smile on his face.

"I'm going to tell him exactly what you said," Hei told Jiang mildly.

His cousin turned the glare on him. "Traitor," he said, then sighed. "Fine. I apologize for punching you. I'll behave myself on the rest of my visit to your country." This time, he bowed more deeply.

Hei translated the apology for Officer Yokoi. The officer studied Jiang for one long moment; then he nodded and passed over a phone and wallet. Jiang made a show of checking to be sure everything was there. Yokoi frowned.

Hoping to get Jiang out of the station before the officer's mood soured and he changed his mind about letting Jiang off, Hei hooked his arm around his cousin's neck to steer him out the door. "Time to go." He'd led Jiang away from a lot of fights like this, he suddenly remembered.

"Li, hang on!"

Hei turned back, his apprehension rising; but it was Harata, not Yokoi, who'd called.

"What is it?" he asked warily, leaving Jiang by the door and returning to the desk.

Harata held up his phone; a video was playing. "This isn't you, is it?" He grinned and gestured to Yokoi. "We have a bet."

"That's definitely Chief Kirihara's car," Yokoi said, "But no way is that you!"

"I know it sounds ridiculous, but who the hell else would it be?" Harata countered. "Foreign Affairs isn't that big!"

Hei fought against a sudden urge to grab the phone and smash it on the floor. _This isn_ _'t the Syndicate_ , he reminded himself yet again. _It_ _'s okay if people see you_. "Yeah," he said aloud, a bit grudgingly. "That was me."

Both men stared at him. "Damn," Yokoi said at last. "And the way you were fighting just now -" he gestured to the CCTV monitor on his desk - "no wonder you got tapped for Section Four!"

"Nah," Hei said with a shrug. "They just needed my language skills." He coughed. "Anyway; I've got to get going."

Yokoi was still staring like he'd never met Hei before. "Sure. Hey, thanks again for bailing me out here; I owe you."

"Yeah."

"What was that about?" Jiang asked as they exited the building. "Fuck," he added, squinting in the bright sunshine. "I think my head is gonna explode…"

"Nothing. There's a street cart down the block. We can grab some water."

As they headed down the broad steps from the police station to the street, they passed several officers going the other direction to start their morning shifts. Hei waved to the men he recognized.

"Do you know everyone in this city, or what?" Jiang asked, squinting at him now.

"What? No; my department coordinates with this station a lot, that's all."

"Department? Like a job?"

"Um, yeah," Hei said, suddenly hesitant. "I work for the police."

"The police? Fuck that."

Hei reached into his pocket for his police ID; wordlessly, he held it up for Jiang's inspection.

Jiang's brow furrowed as he stared at the laminated card; then he barked a laugh. "That figures! You always were a goodie-goodie."

"What?"

"C'mon, you know it's true! All I ever heard from Mom was _Why can_ _'t you behave more like your cousin?_ " He snorted. "She said that once on accident, right after - after you guys were all gone. And I said what, so you want me to go die?" His gaze drifted down the street. "I thought she was going to whip my ass. But she just locked herself in her room and cried for an hour."

Hei didn't know what to say to that. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared down at the sidewalk passing beneath his feet.

Beside him, Jiang cleared his throat. "So you what, do translations and shit like that?"

"Yeah, kind of. The department I work for deals mostly with foreigners, from all over the world."

"Sounds fucking boring."

Hei had to smile. "It mostly is. I like it, though; and sometimes something interesting'll happen."

"Where'd you learn Japanese? You sounded like a native, talking to those cops."

"This is the third time I've lived here; learned it the first time. No one outside of Chinatown speaks Mandarin, so. I learned Japanese."

On that first visit, the Syndicate had put both him and Bai through an intensive immersion course in Kyoto, the better to blend in with the local schoolchildren. Hei had learned best by listening in on playground chatter and watching television programs. His grammar hadn't been great in the beginning, but he'd been able to communicate with the other students and teachers quickly.

Bai, on the other hand, had memorized everything to perfection directly out of the textbook. That, combined with her monotone way of speaking, had earned her the name _Robot Girl_. Only the fact that she hadn't comprehended the other kids' attempts at mocking and bullying her had saved their lives. Hei had gotten into more than a few fights because of it, however.

"Sounds like you've been speaking it too long."

Hei blinked. "What?"

"The hell's wrong with your Chinese? You sound like a fucking foreigner."

Hei rubbed the back of his head in irritation. "I know, I know - give me another day or two and I'll have the right accent back."

They'd reached the street vendor with his little cart of bottled drinks. Hei picked up a sports drink for Jiang, who swallowed half the bottle in one gulp.

"Remind me not to get wasted in a foreign country again," he said, wiping his mouth and grimacing. "At least in Xi'an I can understand whatever the hell the cops are shouting at me."

"You get wasted and arrested a lot?"

"What are you, my fucking mother?" Jiang snapped.

Before Hei could respond - though in truth he had no idea what to say - Jiang's expression softened.

"Sorry," Jiang muttered, taking another swig of the sports drink. "I feel like hell this morning." He hesitated, then continued, "At the remembrance for Xing last night - was Song there?"

"Who?" Hei asked; then he recalled that Grandfather had asked Jiao-tu the same question.

"Guess not." Jiang sighed and tossed the empty bottle into a trash can. "Song. From our class, remember? We're…sort of engaged."

Hei had a vague recollection of a slightly plump girl who'd used to follow Jiang around school. "Sort of?"

His cousin shrugged. "Every time we get in a fight, she calls it off. She always come back, though."

His words were confident enough, but Hei saw the doubt clouding his face.

"Maybe she just didn't want to be there because she knew you wouldn't be," he suggested.

"Yeah. Maybe. Maybe she left a message while those cops had my phone." Jiang pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen; after one look however his hopeful expression turned into a scowl. "Twenty-seven messages from Jiao-tu; twenty fucking seven! What the hell? Shit, they're all about you!"

"Ah. Yeah; she left me seventeen this morning."

"Is this your number? Fuck, you've barely been alive again for an hour and she's already started a group text! I'm going to take her goddamn phone away, I swear! Sisters, man." He flashed Hei a grin of shared commiseration; but his smile faltered. "So, Xing…"

"Later," Hei said uncomfortably. "It's…complicated. I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Yeah. Sure, man."

They walked down the street in awkward silence; after a couple of blocks Jiang said abruptly, "So what the hell was wrong with Xi'an?"

"Wrong…? There's nothing -"

"There's police in Xi'an too, you know. Right? If you wanted to work for the police so bad."

It was impossible to miss the accusation in his voice. All Hei could do was shrug. "I didn't expect to end up here, or in the police. It just sort of happened. But now that I _am_ here, I know it's where I want to be."

"Yeah, but - Japan? Why?" His cousin eyed him. "Hang on - you've got a girl here! That's it, isn't it."

"What? No - I mean, that's not the only…" He trailed off as Jiang burst out laughing.

"Damn, I knew it! You always were such a sucker for girls!"

"What are you talking about?" Hei protested; but Jiang's laughter was infectious, and he was hard-pressed to keep a smile from his face.

"Third grade. You made us late for school because Long Wenqi lost her dog and you wanted to help look for it."

"Well, we were walking by and she needed help…"

"And in fourth grade, you almost broke your arm falling out of the elm tree because you were showing off for that blond exchange student, what was her name?"

"I wasn't showing off! Her kite was stuck in the tree!"

"Yeah, and you were showing off, climbing all the way to the top to get it. She was like, fourteen, man!" Jiang elbowed him in the ribs. "You still got a thing for older women?"

Hei couldn't stop the blush from rising in his cheeks. "No! What thing?" He _didn_ _'t_ have a thing for older women. The two that he'd had serious relationships with had just _happened_ to be a bit older than him; that wasn't a _thing_ …

Jiang only laughed harder. "Shit, man - and always bringing girls over to watch our wushu practice…"

"That was you!" Hei protested, a laugh sputtering from his own mouth now.

"Wait, shit, you're right. Okay, but remember my tenth birthday, I had to invite every girl in the class because you wanted Mei to be there?"

"That never happened. You -"

They were still arguing and trading friendly barbs when they arrived at the hotel. As they entered the lobby, Hei automatically scanned the room for potential threats. It was empty except for the same clerk from last night, speaking to a woman at the front desk with a toddler on her hip - and Grandfather. He was seated at a low table in the center of the room, reading the newspaper with a steaming cup of tea in his hand.

Even though Hei had just seen him last night - and was _expecting_ to see him now - still his step faltered at the sight of him.

Jiang, however, didn't hesitate. He hooked an arm around Hei's neck just as Hei had done earlier and strode over to where Grandfather sat. When the old man glanced up and saw them, his expression was unreadable.

Jiang held up his other hand. "I know, I know, I'm late for practice. But you _can_ _'t_ get angry with me, not today!" He grinned and punched Hei's shoulder. "Look who I ran into outside!"

Grandfather raised one eyebrow; Hei thought he saw a faint smile playing on his lips but he couldn't be sure. "Outside?"

"While I was walking down to meet you," Hei lied, feeling guilty for it and yet defensive over it at the same time. How long had it been since he'd felt _that_ mixed emotion? _Probably not since the last time I tried to lie to Grandfather for Jiang_ , he realized somewhat ruefully.

Grandfather shook his head once. "I'm not angry. But you _are_ late."

"Yeah, yeah." Jiang let go of Hei and turned to head towards the elevators. "You're coming back later, right? It's free practice after lunch." He grinned again. "We can spar some more!"

"Yeah," Hei smiled. "I'll be there."

Jiang disappeared behind the elevator doors. When Hei turned back to his grandfather, he was startled to see tears glimmering in the old man's eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked in alarm.

Grandfather merely patted him on the shoulder. "Nothing is wrong. Seeing you two boys together again - I hadn't realized how much my soul had missed that."

"Oh," Hei said quietly. "Yeah. Me either."


	8. Chapter 8

As the elevator doors closed in front of Jiang, Hei realized that this was the first time he'd been alone with his grandfather since the night his parents had died. The thought nearly drove the air from his lungs.

That night, Grandfather had taken him aside after wushu practice to talk - about Xing. She'd been acting strangely, unlike herself, and Hei had been worried about her. He'd run home afterward, full of hope that either Father or Grandfather would be able to sit down with her and fix whatever the problem was.

He'd never been so wrong in his life. And he'd never allowed himself to hope like that again; not until he'd come to Tokyo and met his new team; met Misaki. Even that - learning to believe that his life might actually hold something for him someday - had been a long, slow process.

Hei exhaled slowly, pushing those thoughts from his mind. All that was in the past; the present was what mattered.

Grandfather, rising from his seat, didn't seem to notice his brief panic. But then, Hei was well-practiced in hiding any hint of fear.

"Do you want to finish your tea first?" Hei asked, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets.

Grandfather shook his head. "I'll take it with me."As he clutched the armrest of the chair in one hand to lever himself up, the paper cup in his other hand trembled slightly.

For a brief moment Hei was torn on whether he should offer to help. His grandfather of twelve years ago would have been offended at the idea that he couldn't do something as simple as stand up under his own strength; but his grandfather of twelve years ago hadn't looked so old and frail.

Before Hei could move, however, Grandfather had gained his feet without spilling a single drop of tea.

"Let's see this city of yours," Grandfather said, tucking his free hand around Hei's upper arm. Hei wasn't sure if he needed the support, or the reassurance. For his own part, he found it surprisingly comforting.

It had taken him a long, long time to get used to casual human touch again. Yin had been the first one to break through that barrier while they'd been on the run from the Syndicate; she'd needed that physical contact - as simple as holding hands as they walked down the street, or a hug goodnight - just as much as he had. It had reminded each of them that they weren't alone in the world, that there was someone else who cared that they existed.

Now, in his new life, he'd been slowly coming to appreciate outward displays of friendship. Kanami's playful ribbing tending to be literal most of the time, and Misaki - well, he was constantly craving _her_ light touches. But he was pretty sure that was just because it was, well, Misaki.

Still, his grandfather's touch on his arm put him more at ease than he would have expected. It brought to mind hazy memories of that strong but gentle grip around his hand during long neighborhood walks or at crowded festivals. A guiding hand that always ensured he would never be lost.

"What do you want to see first?" Hei asked as they passed by the reception desk.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that the woman holding the toddler was still speaking with the clerk - only now she seemed to be crying. The baby, perhaps picking up on his mother's distress, was starting to whine and snuffle too.

"Ma'am, you'll have to wait for the embassy to open," the clerk - Ms. Kimura - was saying in slow, obviously impatient English. "I can't help -"

"I have a reservation!" the other woman interrupted in Korean. She shifted the child on her hip to point emphatically at a printout on the desk, which Hei noticed was also in Korean. At her exclamation, the child started crying in earnest. "I just want my room, please!"

"Um, hang on," Hei told Grandfather after a moment's hesitation. "I'll be right back."

Detaching his arm from his grandfather's hand, he headed over to the reception desk. Ms. Kimura glanced at him and smiled in friendly recognition - and, he thought, no small amount of relief to have an excuse to break off the conversation, such as it was, with the Korean woman.

"You were here last night," Ms. Kimura said, using Japanese now. "Did you find your cousin?"

Hei nodded. "Yeah - thanks for your help. Um, maybe I can help here?"

She gave him a blank look; he turned to address the other woman in Korean. "Hi. Do you need help finding your reservation?"

"You speak Korean!" the other woman exclaimed; Hei thought she might start crying again, this time from pure relief. "Yes - my husband is here for the Games - he booked me a room before he left but no one here can read the paper - they keep trying to take my credit card and I haven't even paid for the cab -"

It was a simple enough problem to solve, once Ms. Kimura understood from the woman's translated explanation how the room had been paid for and that she did in fact have a reservation. Hei made sure to stay at the desk until a bellhop had collected the woman's bags and she had her room key in hand.

"Thank you so much," she said yet again as her baby stared shyly at Hei. "I didn't know what I was going to do."

"It was no problem."

In the past, Hei had always had to weigh the consequences of stepping in to help complete strangers. Did the action fit with whatever alias he was using; could his mission benefit from it somehow? Would it draw too much attention to himself? Was it a setup, or bait from a rival organization? It was such a relief now to be able to just… _help._ He hadn't realized how much he truly liked helping other people, not until after about two months of his therapist forcing him to keep a daily log of good deeds.

The baby stuck his hand out towards Hei and laughed squeakily. Hei smiled and waggled his fingers.

That laugh reminded him of Xing when she'd been just a tiny thing, a bouncing, giggling toddler who had followed him around their tiny apartment. _That_ memory sent an unexpected longing through his heart, a longing for something he'd never thought possible for himself and thus had never even allowed himself to consider.

A sudden blush rose up in his cheeks. He gave an awkward cough. "Um, don't worry about it," he told the woman once again. "And I'll take care of the cab."

"You were a life saver," Ms. Kimura said as the woman and her child followed the bellhop to the elevators. She passed over two slips of paper. "As thanks," she explained.

Hei glanced at the slips - they were vouchers for free meals at the hotel's restaurant. "Oh," he said, surprised. This was one of the more famous restaurants in Shinjuku; it boasted a world-class sushi chef. "My fiancee and I have been wanting to eat here for a while - thank you."

Ms. Kimura regarded him thoughtfully. "You don't need a job, do you?"

"Ah, no - I have one already. A pretty good one."

"Oh? What do you do?"

"Um, I work for the police."

The desk clerk nodded, smiling knowingly. "I should have guessed that."

 _Why should she have guessed that?_ Hei wondered as he walked back to where Grandfather was waiting by the doors to the street. None of his colleagues that he knew of spoke Korean; they wouldn't have been of any help.

Grandfather was just finishing the last of his tea. He tossed the paper cup into a nearby trashcan, then settled his hand on Hei's upper arm once again.

"Sorry about that," Hei said as they left the hotel for the bright morning sunshine.

Grandfather only smiled, watching as Hei paid the cab driver who was still waiting under the hotel's portico. "When did you learn Japanese? You sounded very natural."

That wasn't a truth that Hei dared share. Instead he said, "I've lived in Tokyo for two years now, um, with a year in between. The more I talked to people, the more I picked up."

"And Korean? That was what the other woman was speaking, yes?"

Hei shrugged. "I've spent some time in South Korea too." _And North as well, but Grandfather definitely doesn_ _'t need to know that._

"Seoul? That's a beautiful city, I've heard."

"Yeah, I guess."

In truth, Hei had no idea, although he'd spent nearly a year in Seoul and the surrounding regions. But it had been not long after the end of Heaven's War, when he'd been convinced that he had become a contractor and hadn't yet regained even a sliver of hope that his sister might still be alive. He honestly couldn't remember any real difference between living in South Korea as a poor college student and the two months he'd spent infiltrating an army compound in her neighbor to the north.

If Seoul had indeed been beautiful, that beauty had been lost in the dark void that had consumed his every waking moment.

If he'd run into Jiang _then_ , he wondered, would he have recognized his cousin at all? Somehow, he didn't think so. The former life of Li Tian had been so deeply buried in his mind that even his own name had nearly been lost to him forever.

Hei gave himself a mental shake, and stepped down to the sidewalk.

Grandfather didn't have a particular destination in mind, so Hei led him on a meandering route along the edge of Yoyogi Park towards the heart of Shinjuku. It was a Sunday morning, so the usual workday traffic and crowds were absent; and as it was too early yet for shoppers to be out and about, they almost had the streets to themselves.

He kept the pace slow. Partly because it was a nice day and there was no rush to be anywhere; and partly because he was a little worried about pushing Grandfather to walk too quickly. The old man ambled along beside him, one hand on Hei's arm and the other tucked behind him, on the small of his back. He'd always walked like that, Hei recalled: hands clasped behind him, leaning slightly forward as if to let his eyes take in the world before the rest of his body reached it.

Grandfather gazed up and down the street now, mildly interested in everything that he saw. He asked Hei about the flyers for restaurants that they passed; how many foreigners lived in the city; what the regulations were for riding a bicycle on the crowded streets. Hei had spent nearly all of his time in Tokyo working in Shinjuku; aside from the recon that he'd done on his first arrival (it wouldn't do to get arrested for accidentally jaywalking illegally on his way to a stakeout), he'd had to learn all the city's laws and regulations upon joining Section Four. He thus had answers for nearly all of Grandfather's questions.

Grandfather was particularly interested in the train system. They followed along the Yamanote line for about half a mile; when they reached Shinjuku Station Hei took him inside and wandered around the unusually quiet lobby area until they found someone in a maintenance uniform. After a question or two, the maintenance worker was chatting amiably about everything from the gauge of the rails and how the switches were timed to how ice affected the way the trains turned.

Even if Hei hadn't had to translate, he would have listened with fascination. He'd already known quite a bit about the tunnel system and timing (there had been that one job where his best escape route had been through a metro tunnel; if he'd gotten the timing wrong, Section Four would have found him the next day - as a smear on the front of a train). But even if the information wasn't applicable to anything he needed now, it was still interesting.

It wasn't even as if Grandfather _talked_ that much, Hei mused as they thanked the man and headed back outside the station. He'd ask one or two insightful questions that would get the other person talking; then he'd simply listen, with a nudge here and there to keep the conversation going.

In fact he'd done it to _Hei_ on the walk over, Hei realized suddenly; it had only been a simple comment about the number of bicycles locked outside an apartment building that had gotten Hei explaining at length about the parking problems in the city. It had always been impossible to keep secrets from the old man growing up.

He would have made a good operative.

Hei hastily shoved that thought from his mind. Grandfather was nothing like him.

"I didn't know you knew so much about trains," Hei said as they emerged from the station and into the warm sunlight.

Grandfather shrugged. "I learned some, here and there. The rails for the new metro line are only an hour walk from home; I try to go every week, see how they're coming along."

"New metro?" Hei said blankly. Xi'an had had trains, yes, but never a metro system. When had that happened?

"It will be good for Jiao-tu when it's finished," Grandfather said. "Much easier for her to get to her classes."

The city didn't need a metro. What was wrong with busses and trains? What _else_ had changed since he'd left?

Grandfather continued, "Tu gave me a model train set when I retired; she thought I needed a hobby."

"That was - wait, retired?"

The old man smiled. "Did you think I would run the school forever?"

"Well…yeah," Hei admitted. "Though I was wondering how you'd agreed to let Jiang participate in the Games; I guess that makes sense, if Uncle's running it now." It was strange to consider; Uncle had taught them directly more often than Grandfather, yes, but Grandfather had always been _there_ , undeniably present - and in charge. What was Xu Man's school without Xu Man?

Grandfather pursed his lips. "I have always believed that wushu is a path to finding peace within oneself; there should be no need to compete. Hong and Jiang do not see that one should preclude the other." He shrugged lightly. "Maybe they're right. It's not for me to say."

Hei didn't know about that; fighting had certainly never brought him any peace. "How long have you been retired?" he asked, still trying to wrap his head around the idea.

"Oh, half a year ago? In the fall - after I had the flu. Your grandmother said I was working too hard; so when I left the hospital I agreed to turn the school over to Hong."

"Hospital?" A sudden chill seized Hei's heart. "You're alright, though? Now?"

Grandfather squeezed his arm reassuringly. "Fine, fine - I only went because the women were worried. It was just the flu, and a slight fever. Nothing to fear."

They walked for several more steps; then Grandfather continued, more quietly, "The fever was almost too much, though. Every nurse I saw…I thought it was An. She always took care of me, ever since she was small. After I recovered and I realized that it was a stranger looking after me, and not my little girl…"

He lapsed into silence. Hei couldn't speak; his throat had closed up at the mention of his mother, so tightly he almost couldn't breathe.

And only this past fall… Hei should have been there. He _could_ have been there; last summer was when he'd determined that he was finally free of the Syndicate, free to go anywhere, do anything with his life.

He'd chosen to go back to Tokyo. Not home.

He was still searching for the right words to say when he felt a tug on his arm, and turned to find that Grandfather had stopped. The old man was staring down the street, through the wide gap between two towering office buildings.

"It looks so much larger in person," Grandfather said. "It doesn't bother you, living so close?"

Hei watched the reflection of puffy white clouds drifting across the Gate's camouflaging surface. He shrugged, relieved to be back on more familiar ground. The Gate, he could handle.

"Not really; you get used to it."

He'd heard other contractors talk about how they could almost _feel_ the presence of the Gates - both here in Tokyo and in South America - sense it like an itch under the skin or a subtle magnetic force drawing them to it. He had never experienced anything of the sort, despite having Bai's power. Maybe it was a phenomenon that was tied to the contract itself; maybe he was simply too human to be affected by it.

They continued on down the street. "What about that attack that happened a couple of years ago - those terrorists who wanted to blow it up? Were you here then?"

Hei shrugged again. "Yeah. Most of the fighting stayed within the Restricted Zone or the Gate itself; no one in the city was hurt."

"It doesn't worry you?"

"The attack was stopped." _I stopped it_. _Stopped the Syndicate; stopped Amber,_ he thought with an unwelcome twinge of pride. "It's not likely to happen again." _I won_ _'t let it_.

Grandfather didn't seem reassured by that answer, but he didn't pursue the subject. "Is that a Chinese restaurant?" he asked, nodding at a place on their left.

"Yeah, it's pretty good. Beijing-style food. I used to work there, actually; the first time I was in Tokyo."

In fact they'd reached the neighborhoods in which Hei had spent most of his time when he'd been here as Li Shengshun - and the Black Reaper. For every place of note that he pointed out - the market where he'd bought most of his fresh vegetables; the Home Run House, where Rika was writing out the day's specials on a sidewalk chalkboard - he had to _avoid_ pointing out the places he'd visited in his mask. The roof of an office building where he'd killed a French contractor; the bank that had once been a construction site where Yin had nearly been killed; the worksite where Huang had shot him just to keep him away from Amber.

"A good friend of mine used to work here," Hei said as they passed by the still-boarded-up tobacco shop.

Grandfather must have detected a note of sadness in his voice, because he asked, "What happened?"

"Nothing - she went home to her family in Finland. She's happy there. I just…miss her, is all."

It had been Yin's decision to go home, once they knew they were safe from the Syndicate. She'd been torn between wanting to try and salvage something of her past, and not abandoning Hei to a life alone. Only after he'd told her that he might go back to Tokyo and see if he could find a place for himself there did she stop worrying about him long enough to start being happy for herself.

"She's promised to come visit for the wedding though," he added. He only wished that Huang and Mao could be there as well. What would his old handler have thought, seeing the Black Reaper get married - to cop of all people?

Grandfather smiled. "Good. I'm glad you will have friends there."

 _But not family._ Grandfather's tone hadn't implied anything of the sort, but still a fresh surge of guilt rose up in Hei's heart that only worsened when he added quietly, "Will Xing be there?"

"I don't know. That's up to her, I guess."

"Li! You haven't been by to see me in ages - I hope you have a good excuse!"

This might have been the first time that Hei was actually relieved to see his former landlady. She was sweeping the walk just outside the entrance to her small apartment building; now she shouldered her broom and stared at Grandfather curiously.

"Yeah, sorry," Hei said, rubbing the back of his head. "Work's been pretty busy lately. Um, this is my grandfather. He's visiting for the first time, so I'm just showing him around. He doesn't speak any Japanese, sorry."

Misuzu nodded sagely. "I thought I saw a resemblance." She turned to Grandfather and said in a slow, deliberate voice, "Your grandson is a very decent boy; always keeps an eye out for us. Always paid his rent, too - even if it was a year late." She eyed Hei. "Well, aren't you going to tell him what I said?"

"Um, of course," Hei said, feigning innocence. He would just leave out that last little bit; he _had_ paid back what he'd owed when he'd left Tokyo, with his very first paycheck from Section Four.

As with everyone else they'd stopped to talk to that morning, Grandfather wasn't content with a simple hello. He asked Misuzu about rent prices in the area, which quickly had the landlady venting in full flow about property taxes and delinquent payments. Hei wouldn't have minded, except that he had to translate the entire monologue. And Misuzu, once her ire was raised, rarely paused for breath, let alone gave Hei a chance to keep up.

"Have you had any more problems with vandals?" Hei asked, at last finding a pause long enough to get a word in.

Misuzu gave him a smug smile. "Nope. I don't know what you did to scare those kids off, but it worked - they haven't been back since."

What he'd done was hang out in the shadows behind the building wearing his Reaper gear and a black scarf in place of his white mask - he'd promised Misaki he would never wear the mask again - and wait for the teenagers to show. Misaki had, thankfully, decided to be amused rather than indignant at his tactics.

"It's nice to have people in the police who actually care about us citizens," Misuzu continued. "Did you hear that, you layabouts?" she called to a pair of college-aged girls who had just exited the building. "My former tenant is a police officer; so stop slacking off and get some jobs!"

"Unemployment isn't illegal," Hei told her mildly.

She crossed her arms. "Well, it should be. More young people ought to have a work ethic like yours. I remember we hardly saw you, you were so busy working day and night. No morals - that's the problem these days."

"Um, yeah. Well, we should get going - call me if you have any more problems." Uncomfortable with the sudden reminder of the difference between his two lives, Hei turned their path back towards the direction of the hotel.

"You have a lot of friends in the city," Grandfather commented as they passed the alleyway where Hei had come so close to killing Ootsuka and Saitou both. He still hadn't been able to bring himself to tell Misaki about that night.

"Not really. People just talk to me, I guess."

Unable to shake the memory and its implications, he lapsed into silence. Grandfather too was quiet, as if he had sensed the shift in Hei's mood. Or perhaps he simply no longer felt the need to speak either.

"Something bothering you?" Grandfather finally asked as they reached the edge of Yoyogi Park.

"No," Hei lied. Memories aside, he had noticed the old man's step beginning to flag, though they couldn't have walked more than two miles in total. "It's a nice morning; let's sit for a while."

They found a nice grassy spot in the shade of an elm tree, the green park stretching out before them. The Gate's containment wall loomed in the east.

Hei let Grandfather sit first, just in case he needed a hand; but despite the hints of weariness, Grandfather settled into his usual cross-legged seat without difficulty. Back straight, he pulled a tobacco pipe and a little tin from his pocket. Hei sank down next to him, feet flat on the ground and his arms resting on his knees.

"I came to this park the first night I was ever in Tokyo," Hei said as the sweet, oh-so-familiar scent of tobacco smoke wafted around him. "I'd found a cheap telescope at a flea market in Shanghai, and I wanted to see how different the stars looked here."

He'd also needed to make contact with the woman who'd been his target in his first Tokyo mission, though he certainly hadn't expected to run into her here. This had meant to have simply been a staging point, from whence to move once Yin had discovered where she'd gone to ground.

Maybe if they hadn't bumped into each other that night, Shinoda Chiaki - at least, the doll impersonating her - would still be alive.

 _No. I had a mission to complete. She was dead as soon as she stole those papers; and that doll was dead as soon as they put her in my path_.

It had been naive of him to try to save her. But…he'd had to do it. As soon as he'd heard the name _Shinoda Chiaki_ , he'd known that he had to take that chance, as if by helping her he could erase what his sister and he had done to her parents so many years ago.

"We still have your father's telescope."

Hei sucked in a sharp breath and held it for a long moment, willing himself to focus on the feel of the grass beneath his hands. Cool, slightly damp with dew; alive.

"It doesn't work anymore," Grandfather continued. He took one puff from his pipe. "I think a lens inside is cracked; I always meant to take it in to be repaired."

"Oh," was all Hei could manage.

"We have a few other of their things. The desk; you saw that in the video call last night. Your mother's rings, and photo albums. Anything you want is yours, of course."

Hei forced himself to think about that. He'd been wanting to get a new telescope for a while now - teach Misaki how to use it, so they could stargaze together. Kanami would know where he could get repairs done.

And he _had_ always loved the rickety old desk. One of his favorite places to be as a child had been in Father's office, playing on the floor behind the chair while Father sat hunched over a stack of student essays, commenting on each one aloud as if Hei had been able to understand the finer points of Keynesian economics.

Maybe if they moved to a bigger place, like Misaki had mentioned recently, there could be room for the desk.

"Oh yes, and your father's hunting knife; the police returned it after they'd found - well, after they'd found what they said was you and your sister."

Hei's blood suddenly ran cold. He realized he was gripping the grass beneath his hands so tightly that the blades were uprooting. The knife had belonged to his paternal grandfather, who'd died before Hei was born. He'd hand-carved the wooden handle over fifty years ago. Father had never done any kind of hunting; instead he'd used it to clean the fish that they caught and to peel apple skins.

Hei had taken the knife with him when he and Xing had run; for protection.

A month later, he used it to kill his first man.

He'd thrown that knife _away_ , hurled it down the deserted alleyway as far as he possibly could, wishing only that there was a sea in the center of Xi'an to swallow it up, swallow _him_ up. How had the Syndicate found it - had they already been on his and Xing's trail then?

He didn't want the knife back. He didn't ever want to see it again.

Grandfather was gazing across the park at the Gate, drawing serenely on his pipe.

"What…did the police say?" Hei managed at last.

Grandfather didn't answer right away. He inhaled slowly, then blew out a slow steady stream of smoke.

"They said they found you across town, in a slum that had caught fire," he said at last. "Hong and I went to the morgue to identify the bodies. It was a boy and a girl, your age and Xing's. Because of the fire…we couldn't see the faces. But they had Xing's schoolbag, and Xinkun's knife. So it had to be you."

Hei rested his arms on his knees at gazed at the clouds drifting across the surface of the Gate's wall. He'd known that the Syndicate had had death certificates forged for them, in order to officially end their legal existences. He hadn't known they'd gone so far as to actually fake their deaths. It shouldn't have surprised him, yet he couldn't help feeling unsettled by the idea. Ashes were one thing, but bodies? "Last night you said you knew I was alive."

"The police couldn't say who had taken you; or how your parents had died. They seem didn't very interested in finding out. The private detective I hired quit without giving a reason after only two weeks. Then suddenly the police found you; they even had your things. But your faces were too burned to see."

Grandfather sighed quietly. "It was enough for everyone else. They needed to have an answer, and here one was, even if it was incomplete. I tried to accept it too; I just couldn't. Lately though, I was starting to think that maybe they were right all along, and I was just a foolish old man for not believing it."

"You weren't wrong though," Hei told him.

His grandfather smiled warmly at him, and clasped his shoulder. "No. No, I wasn't."

After a long silence in which he puffed away at his pipe and Hei stared down at the grass, too awash with guilt to speak, Grandfather said, "We'll have to move the urns now."

"Urns?"

"Grandmother wanted the urns placed in the shrine next to the courtyard, with the ancestors. I said An and Xinkun could be there, but not the other two, because they weren't you. Your grandmother thought I was mad; she didn't speak to me for weeks, but I refused to have strangers resting with our family. Finally Jiao-tu begged to know why I wouldn't let you and Xing come home…so I gave in. They're there now, all four. But you and Xing _are_ still alive; we can move the strangers out. Maybe to a public cemetery."

"Don't," Hei said abruptly, surprising himself.

Grandfather gazed at him. "Don't?"

"I mean…I don't know who those two children were. But they still died, probably alone. They shouldn't have to be buried alone too, just because of me. I mean, just because they're _not_ me; they're not from the right family."

Grandfather watched his face for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Maybe you're right."

"…I am?"

"Yes. Your mother would probably scold me for sending two children away, just because they're strangers. Xing would too, I think. I should have thought of that. If you want them to stay, they can stay."

Hei nodded, a knot of conflicting feelings twisting in his stomach. He lapsed into a pensive silence which Grandfather seemed content not to break.

It was quiet in the park this morning, despite the warmth of the early spring day. Birds chirped in the distance, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of tobacco. Before, that scent had always so starkly reminded Hei of his grandfather that just the slightest hint of it would push him to the edge of a panic attack; now, it filled his head with memories of trips to the park by the river or sitting out in the courtyard on hot summer nights, playing with his sister and cousins while Grandfather watched sedately from the house steps.

Hei lay back in the grass and gazed up at the pale blue sky, contentedness finally stealing over him for the first time in the past two days.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will write the story in which Hei meets Misaki's father at some point - for this chapter, all you need to know is that they have met, and it...did not go well.
> 
> And don't worry, the family drama will be ramping up soon!

Hei quickly lost track of how much time had passed as they sat in the park. He knew that the better part of an hour at least had ticked by, because warm sunlight was now pooling across his right shoulder, stretching towards his chest. He didn't bother to move; the heat was comforting. Instead he closed his eyes and listened to the soft trilling of birds in the distance, his arms crossed behind his head.

With his eyes shut, he could almost believe that he was back home in Xi'an, spending the day at the park during a break from school. Grandfather had often taken them to fly kites, or feed the geese down by the river. One memory in particular stirred in his mind: of a tiny Xing bundled up in a scarf and windbreaker on a chilly fall day, waddling after a small flock of ducks and quacking at them between uproarious giggles, while he chased after _her_ and Grandfather watched serenely from a park bench, his pipe in his mouth.

The memory was so strong, in fact, that Hei nearly forgot for a moment that he _wasn_ _'t_ in Xi'an, until the shouting of some kids - in Japanese - across the park jolted him back to the present.

_I_ _'m in Tokyo_ , he reminded himself. _Grandfather is here, but we_ _'re in Tokyo. Misaki is just a few blocks away, at home_.

He'd spent so long living with such a compartmentalized life; it was hard to imagine that Misaki could still be so close if Grandfather was present, as if the nearness of one necessitated the removal of the other. How strange would it be to see them both together? He couldn't quit wrap his head around the idea that in just an hour or so, they _would_ all be together.

In a way it was like that moment in the alley when his mask had shattered in front of Misaki and her team; in that instant he'd been neither Hei nor Li, or perhaps both at the same time. Like two paints that had abruptly bled together to form some new, murky color and could no longer be separated. He couldn't go back; couldn't go forward. All he'd been able to do was stand there, paralyzed in shock.

He would _have_ to merge his two lives, he knew, if he wanted to have both Misaki and his family in his future. He _did_ want them both; yet still he felt on the verge of paralysis. He didn't want his family to see his dark past; he didn't want Misaki to see the… _normalcy_ that had been his childhood.

Normal children didn't murder dozens of people before they reached adulthood.

_Misaki can handle it - she is handling it_ , he reminded himself for the hundredth time. _And Grandfather and Uncle_ _…they don't need to know. I don't have to tell them. I just want them to meet Misaki._

Once they met her, that unresolved question from last night - of why he wasn't moving home - would be clear to everyone. They wouldn't pressure him to go back to Xi'an when she was here.

He couldn't wait for his grandfather and the rest of the family to meet Misaki; still, he only wished…

Squeezing his eyes even more tightly shut, he listened to a bird calling in the tree above him.

"What are you thinking about?" Grandfather asked around his pipe.

Hei's mind automatically clicked into survival mode, racing to determine whether he'd accidentally let something slip while simultaneously concocting an innocuous lie to assuage any suspicion or steer the conversation away from painful subjects. Then his thinking brain caught up, and he forced himself to take a deep breath.

There was no need to lie; no risk of discovery. He was safe here. Besides, hadn't Grandfather _always_ asked him questions like that?

"Remember how Xing used to beg you to ask her that?" Hei said at the sudden memory. A light smile brushed his lips. "She always wanted an excuse to make up a new story."

"I remember," Grandfather said quietly. Hei could hear the smile in his voice. "I also remember how often you tried to avoid answering."

" _I_ did? I don't remember avoiding anything."

"I do." A pause while Grandfather puffed on his pipe. "So. What are you thinking about?"

Hei hesitated for the space of a breath. Regardless of how safe he felt here, it was hard to shake a decade of guarding his thoughts so closely that even _he_ wasn't aware of half of them.

"I don't know any of the birds here," he said at last, keeping his eyes closed. "Like the one in the tree above us - I have no idea what it is. Dad…Dad used to know them all, in the mountains by the house. The fish too. Remember?"

"I remember."

"He taught me some of them. But there were more. That he didn't get to tell me about."

Grandfather was silent for a long time. Hei opened his eyes; the old man was staring out across the park with an unfocused gaze.

"There's never enough time," Grandfather finally said. "There's always something more to say. That's how life is."

Hei heard the grief in his voice. It made him uneasy. "What happened to the house?" he asked, mostly to change the subject. "In Zhangjiaping?"

"Oh, nothing. Hong suggested selling it once, but it belonged to your father's family; it felt presumptuous for us to profit from it. Shan Ying looks after it for us."

It took Hei a moment to register the name. "The grocer's son?"

"Yes. Mr. Shan passed away several years ago."

"Oh. I liked him."

Mr. Shan had run a small grocery in the center of Zhangjiaping, the only one in that tiny village. He'd always had a sweet ready for Xing when they stopped by for supplies on their way up from the city; once, he'd shown Hei how to sort the good fruit from bad. It was hard to picture the little mountain village without Mr. Shan.

"I'm glad the house is still there," Hei said, staring up at the clouds that drifted lazily above. "I want to take Misaki to see it."

"Tell me about her."

This time, Hei couldn't stop a smile from breaking through. "Misaki? She's amazing. I don't even know how to describe her. What she means to me…" How could he possibly put into words her fierce determination, her sharp intellect, the way her eyes flashed when she was angry or the pure depth of them when she was gazing into his own…

"Then tell me what you love most."

"The most? There isn't just one thing…but I guess…I love her compassion. She cares so much about doing the right thing and protecting people who need her help - I've never met anyone like that before. I forgot a person like that could even exist."

His memory of the night they'd met was still crystal clear; the image of her cradling her friend's body even after that friend had just tried to kill her burned into his mind. He'd watched it all from outside the window, nearly mistiming his entrance because he'd been so fascinated by this policewoman who cared so much for her dead enemy.

Surely someone so naively good couldn't last long in the world, he'd decided, though it was a saddening realization. In his experience, cops were either incompetent or corrupt. The good ones, the ones with ideals, were quietly removed if they refused to bend, or else found themselves in someone else's pocket as soon as they _did_ bend. The Syndicate had had more cops on their payroll than contractors.

Misaki, however, knew when to bide her time instead of taking a stand; she knew how to fight for the greater good without slipping into temptation; she knew how to command respect without creating enmity.

And she had no idea she knew any of this. She just saw a job that needed doing, and she did it.

"She's always seen me as the person I wished I was," he continued. "Instead of the person I thought I was; it makes me feel like I _can_ be that person. I mean - it's hard to put into words. You'll see when you meet her."

Grandfather smiled. "I'm looking forward to it. I've always known that whoever you chose to spend your life with would be special."

"I think she's the one who chose me. Which…I don't know if I'll ever understand it. Every day that I wake up beside her, I'm still surprised. That she could look past - that she could see _me_ , and still chose to keep me in her life."

Grandfather reached over and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "And her family? What are they like?"

A small cloud drifted across the sun; the heat of the light faded but his grandfather's hand was warm. "Her mom passed away when she was younger; she has some distant relatives, but she doesn't know them well. It's really just her and her dad. They get along well, but they don't spend that much time together. I mean, they both seem happy that way, but I don't really understand it."

Maybe it made him a hypocrite, considering the fact that he'd denied the existence of his own family for so long, but he couldn't comprehend the idea of having only one living family member and _not_ spending as much time as possible with them. He'd grown up surrounded by a close-knit extended family; he couldn't even recall a single time when he'd ever been actually alone. Even when his parents had had to work late and he and Xing had gone home rather than stay at the Xus' residence, _they_ _'d_ still been together.

If the Gates had never appeared, if he'd never left Xi'an, he had no doubt that right now he'd be working hard to pay for a home large enough for both his parents and - assuming he'd met anyone in China that even came close to Misaki - a family of his own. Someplace within easy walking distance of his grandparents' home and wherever Xing had settled. And until she was settled, he was sure that Xing would've stayed with him.

But Misaki and her father seemed to content to simply exist in the same city as each other, with only an occasional phone call or dinner together.

Still, even if Hei couldn't comprehend it, he wasn't going to complain. It was less time that _he_ had to spend with Kirihara Naoyasu.

"I suppose every family is different," Grandfather said. "Her father must at least be happy to see his daughter engaged."

"Um," Hei said. "I think he would be. If it was anyone other than me." He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice; he wasn't sure how successful he'd been.

Grandfather clucked his tongue. "I'm sure that's not true."

"No, I'm pretty sure it is. We, uh, sort of got off on the wrong foot." _Accidentally threatening to blackmail your girlfriend_ _'s father and superior in the police will do that_. "And never really managed to get past that. Misaki says he just needs more time to get used to the idea of her dating _anyone_ , but I don't know. I hate feeling like I'm coming between her and her father; Misaki just says that it's _his_ problem and he needs to figure it out for himself."

He hadn't meant to say quite so much; but it felt good to confide these worries to someone else. He couldn't talk about it with Saitou and Kouno, since Naoyasu - aside from Misaki - was their superior as well. And he couldn't tell Misaki exactly why her father hated him so much - not without actually revealing that little bit of information that Naoyasu assumed Hei was holding over him. Even his therapist agreed that bringing it up would probably be a bad idea. He would just have to deal with it, and hope that Misaki was right.

"Your fiancee is probably right," Grandfather said.

Hei blinked. "She is? I mean, she _usually_ is…"

"It can be hard for a father to admit that it's time to let his daughter go, no matter how independent she is - and especially if he has trouble seeing how this stranger is a good match for her. I'm sure he just needs time."

That sounded reasonable, but - Hei's brow furrowed. "Wait, you didn't feel that way about _my_ dad, did you?" Grandfather and Father had always seemed to get along fine, even if their personalities had been markedly different. "Is that - is that why we didn't live in the house?"

He knew that money had been tight growing up - and that despite there being a whole empty wing at the Xu residence, Mother and Father had steadfastly declined to move in.

Grandfather's smile turned a little sad. "It is true that I didn't think Xinkun would ever fit into the family. A young man who would rather read a book than learn wushu! I couldn't understand why An would want to marry him…and then I got to know him, and saw how much he loved your mother. In the end I couldn't have hoped for a better son-in-law. As for the house, that was your mother's decision. She needed space from us, I think. From me."

He sighed, and glanced up as a bird flew past overhead. "Sometimes I think maybe I should have been _more_ stern; insisted that you all move home. Maybe, if we'd all been together - if I'd been there…"

The sun had broken through the clouds again, but still Hei felt a slight chill. "It wouldn't have made a difference," he said flatly. "It might have been worse." The thought of the _whole_ family being there after Xing had discovered her power…that was why he'd fled in the first place. He'd had to protect Xing - and them.

A long pause followed his statement; but Hei didn't explain further, and Grandfather didn't ask.

At last Grandfather said, "You said you met your fiancee at work; was this at that Chinese restaurant?"

Hei had to laugh. "No; Misaki wouldn't last one hour in customer service - she doesn't have the right kind of patience."

She could spend days on a stakeout without batting an eye, but the idea of her trying to deal with a customer who wanted to use an expired coupon…Hei laughed again. "She's a police officer. The youngest and first woman section chief in the Public Security Bureau," he added with a touch of pride. "We met because I, uh, had some information she needed on one of her cases. Then she told me I should apply to join her department…I decided to give it a try. So, now we work together."

He cast his gaze onto Grandfather's face, searching for any hint of approval. The old man's expression was as stoic as always.

"Police?" He nodded once. "Yes."

Hei's brow knitted. "Yes?"

"Yes. That fits you; it's what you always wanted to be."

"What I always - what are you talking about?"

Grandfather was adding more tobacco to the bowl of his pipe. He lit it again and exhaled a cloud of smoke. "I took you boys to the park one morning - you must have been, oh, three or four; I don't think Xing was quite crawling yet. As we were walking down the path, a man snatched a woman's purse right in front of us. I couldn't run after him and leave you two; but a police officer had seen. He chased the man down, subdued him, brought the woman her purse back. And you said to me, 'That's who I want to be when I grow up.'

"At first I thought you were too kind-hearted for that job," the old man continued. "Maybe I should encourage you to be a teacher, like your father. You would have done well at that, if you could master sitting at a desk for hours at a time." He smiled wryly, as if knowing that that would have been an impossible task. "But then I realized that it was exactly your kind heart that the police needed. So, I'm not surprised that is that path you've found for yourself."

"I don't remember that," Hei said quietly, his head spinning.

"Well, as I said, you were young. But youth is where our futures are formed. You enjoy working with the police?"

"Yeah. I do."

"I'm glad. I suppose your training in wushu is helpful."

"Um. Sometimes, I guess. What's really helpful is knowing more languages than just Japanese. Our department deals mostly with foreigners. So."

Hei was saved from continuing that line of conversation by the ringing of his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket.

"It's Jiao-tu," he said with a frown, noticing that he'd missed several more messages that morning. He sat up and answered the call. "What's wrong?"

"What's _wrong_?" his cousin replied, the accusation in her voice unmistakable. "What's wrong is you haven't answered any of my messages - I was _worried_! If Jiang hadn't told me he'd seen you this morning - when you didn't answer -"

"Tu, I'm fine," he reassured her. "I just talked to you last night; what could possibly happen in one night."

Dead silence fell on the other end of the line, and he realized what he'd just said.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that," he told her quietly. "I should have replied to your messages."

Jiao-tu sniffed. "No. It's okay. There wasn't any reason for me to be so worried. I just…we just found you again, and I was afraid something would happen…"

"Nothing's going to happen; I promise. Anyway, I need to get better at responding to texts; it drives Misaki crazy when I don't."

"Misaki?" Jiao-tu sniffed again, but her voice was noticeably brighter. "Your fiancee? That's why I called, actually - Grandmother and Mom want to ask you some questions. Hang on, let me start the video."

"Questions?" Hei repeated blankly. He took the phone away from his ear to see the screen blink into an image of Jiao-tu, Grandmother, and Aunt all seated together on the couch. Grandmother and Aunt looked much the same as they had last night - Aunt had removed her curlers - yet it was still a shock to see them again. Jiao-tu, in chunky glasses and an overlarge sweatshirt, was much more the cousin that he remembered.

"Tian? Are you there?" Grandmother asked, peering at what must be Jiao-tu's phone.

"Yes, Grandmother; I'm here."

"Tian, turn on your video!" Jiao-tu broke in.

"Video?" He squinted at the screen.

"The little camera icon - jeez, you're worse than Dad!"

"This?" Hei touched the picture on the screen, and all three women beamed at him.

"It's so good to see you, dear," Aunt said, wiping her eye. "I was almost afraid I'd dreamed our whole conversation last night."

"It's good to see you too," Hei said. Beside him, Grandfather sat quietly puffing his pipe. "What questions did you have?"

Grandmother lifted the thick book on her lap. "Yafang got my almanac back from Qian. You said you haven't chosen a date for your wedding?"

"No…"

"Oh, that's good," Aunt broke in. "We'll help you. We just need to know your fiancee's birthday."

Hei blinked. "Birthday? You don't have to do anything -"

"Don't be silly," Grandmother said. "Your mother would do this for you if - if she could. She would want us to help in her place."

"And since it seems I won't be planning my _own_ son's wedding any time soon, it's no burden, don't worry."

"Now, when is Misaki's birthday?" Grandmother asked, pronouncing the name carefully.

"Um, December twenty-eighth."

"And the year?"

"Nineteen eighty-one."

"Oh," Aunt said. "She's older than you?"

Beside her, her daughter burst into a sudden fit of giggles. "Oh my god," Jiao-tu said between gasps for air, "I forgot you have a thing for older women!"

"I do not!" Hei protested. "She just happens to be a little older than me - that's not a _thing_!"

"I can't wait to tell Jiang, he'll love it!"

"What - don't you dare!"

"Tu, stop teasing the poor boy," Aunt said, but Hei could see a smile on her face. "Tian, we'll let you know what the almanac says. But we were thinking, we really should discuss it with Misaki's parents too, and offer a bridal gift. Do you think they would be able to do a video call?"

"Oh. Um…I don't know. Her mother passed away several years ago; and her dad doesn't speak Chinese. It might be too hard to coordinate something." In any case, even if Naoyasu _was_ inclined to in any way acknowledge that his daughter was engaged to Hei, Hei couldn't picture him agreeing to meet his family, even over the phone, let alone accept a gift from them.

And Hei was pretty sure _he_ didn't want Naoyasu meeting his family; blackmail could go both ways, after all.

Aunt put a hand over her heart. "Oh, the poor girl - she doesn't have anyone to help her with the wedding?"

"She has her close friend. And me."

"Still, girls really should have their mothers for something like this. Has anyone taught her how to keep house? I suppose she learned it on her own, taking care of her father? Oh dear, your first year together might be difficult…"

Hei had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the idea of Misaki 'keeping house' for anyone. He knew that she had managed the cleaning well enough when she was in middle school, but as her course load increased her father had pushed her to focus on that; in the end Naoyasu had hired a housekeeper and kept the freezer well-stocked with instant meals.

"Mom, come on," Jiao-tu said. "Just because Song wants to be a housewife doesn't mean every woman should be! I'm sure Tian and his fiance are much more progressive!"

Hei nodded. "Don't worry, we've already figured that out. I cook, and she cleans; we both contribute."

"You're living together already?" Grandmother frowned.

"Um." Had his family always been this conservative? "Yes? It just made sense. Rent in Tokyo is so high, why pay for two apartments…"

"Well, you can always move home, to save money. You know we have room; enough for Misaki's father too, so she can continue to look after him."

That nightmare ranked right up there with his memories of Carmine's devastating attacks in South America. Before Hei could correct Grandmother, however, she continued, "It'll be so much easier to help with the children if you're here with us."

"Children?" Hei said blankly, hardly able to get the word out.

Aunt nodded, while her daughter snickered beside her. "Tian, you can't expect Grandfather and Grandmother to spend months away in Tokyo, at their age; and your uncle and I will _hopefully_ be needed here, to look after our own grandchildren."

"Don't look at _me_ ," Jiao-tu said with a roll of her eyes.

"Tu, I'm talking about Jiang and you know it - Song can't stay angry with him forever."

"Wanna bet?"

"That's all still pretty far in the future," Hei said hurriedly. "We don't even know if we want kids."

Both older women frowned at him. "Of course you'll want children," Grandmother said. "Your wife can't spend her days only looking after you."

Hei rubbed the back of his head and sighed. "Well, no - that's why she's not going to quit her job after we get married." He gave them a half smile. "Anyway, she makes more money than I do, so if anyone stays home it should be me."

Jiao-tu giggled. "She's older _and_ she brings home the rice? I had no idea you were into that kind of thing…Do you wear an apron and a headscarf?"

"Well," Grandmother said at last, ignoring Jiao-tu, "Well, when you do have children - Grandfather and I will come stay with you."

"Grandmother -" Aunt began to protest, but her mother-in-law waved a hand.

"We're not so old that we can't still travel; Grandfather is in Tokyo right now, isn't he? An would want us to be there for her grandchildren, in her place."

"Thank you," Hei said quietly.

"That's true," Aunt said, though she didn't look convinced. "Tian, is there anything else we can help with? I'm afraid I don't know much about Japanese marriage customs; it would be so much easier if you wanted to come here…"

"Misaki isn't very traditional," Hei said. "We're just going to follow the ceremony that the temple uses."

"Oh. Well, modern ceremonies are popular these days, aren't they," Grandmother said. "An wanted hers to be in the Western tradition; of course we couldn't say no, because she would have done it anyway. At least tell Misaki that she can call us, for anything. Especially with her mother gone; she'll be part of the family, after all."

Hei blinked, his vision suddenly a bit blurry. "Alright. I'll tell her. Um, any other questions?"

"Oh, one more. Your mother and father had Western-style wedding rings; I have them in a little box in the shrine. Do you think Misaki would like your mother's?"

Hei felt his throat close up. He remembered his parents wearing their rings; it was what had spurred him to propose to Misaki with an engagement ring, despite that it wasn't a common custom and she rarely wore jewelry. His mother, he thought, would have liked it. And _if_ they ever had children, it would be something to pass down; her own mother hadn't had a wedding ring, and Misaki had very little to remember her by.

"Yeah," he managed to say at last. "Yeah, I think she would."


	10. Chapter 10

"Don't let your Grandmother and Aunt overwhelm you," Grandfather said as they entered the hotel lobby. "They only want to help."

"I know," Hei said mildly. "There's not much they can do from Xi'an anyway. I'm not going to ask for anything; it's just nice to know that everyone, well….cares."

Grandfather gave him a sidelong glance. "Did you expect anything different?"

 _Well_ _…kind of_ , Hei thought to himself. _But then, they don_ _'t exactly know everything yet. And they're not going to._

Grandfather led him around the elevator bank to a wide flight of stairs that went down to what looked like a small conference center with tall glass doors opening to Yoyogi park. Hei chided himself for not realizing that there was another major entrance to the hotel. He was definitely off his game - he had been ever since his family had shown up in his life again.

"What about money? Weddings can be expensive, especially if you're not going to hold a banquet. We have some set aside. Your mother and father didn't have anything to leave you; they only kept cash, and it was missing from the apartment."

"Um, yeah. Xing and I took that, when we…left."

Hei mentally winced, anticipating a verbal blow; but none came. Nor did the difficult questions that he'd been expecting - and fearing - all day.

Instead, Grandfather nodded, as if that confirmed something. "They would have wanted you to have it."

To the left of the staircase was a set of double doors with frosted glass; a sign on the left one said _Arena Access_. So, he had been right about a private entrance to the hotel from the sports arena. That made up for him missing the park entrance. A little.

 _Getting sloppy_ , he chided himself. Aloud he said, "Anyway, Misaki and I have enough. We're not doing anything elaborate."

Grandfather used his room key to open the doors. "Well, the offer is always there," he said as he led Hei down a wide, windowless corridor the presumably led under the street in parallel to the pedestrian bridge above. "You know you are welcome to anything that we have; it's yours too. And Xing's, if she decides to come home someday."

Hei didn't respond; instead, he focused on his surroundings, anything to keep his mind off of that lie of omission.

The walls of the corridor were unpainted concrete, but bright posters from all the event that were hosted at the arena that year were hung in regularly-spaced intervals; several were advertisements for the East Asian Games. There were no bends in the corridor, no side passages or doorways, he couldn't help noticing. And aside from one just outside the entrance, no security cameras either.

After about a hundred yards, they reached another set of double doors - without windows - with another key card access; beyond, the corridor opened into an intersection. Each branch was marked with signs to various rooms and facilities; the largest branch sloped up and away towards the stands and arena floor. The VIP sections must be that way, Hei presumed.

Grandfather turned right, down the corridor with an arrow directing them towards _Training Gyms 1-4_. The corridor curved away in front of them. They passed quite a few people - some in the red polos of the arena staff, some young men and women who were clearly part of their respective countries' national teams. Hei caught smatterings of Korean, Cantonese, and even a Malaysian dialect that he didn't know.

"Are there usually so many people down here?" he asked curiously. This part of the arena had security cameras every few yards or so; some blind spots, Hei suspected, but not too many.

"More, I think," Grandfather said. "More staff, in any case. Women's teams are competing this afternoon, so I suppose fewer people attend those events. Here we are."

He stopped in front of a door marked _Training Gym 3_. This door had an electronic access keypad, but the little light was green; indeed, Grandfather was able to open it without a code.

The room beyond was much like the gym that Section Four used for their team training sessions, but much bigger. Short aluminum bleachers lined two walls, while the central floor was covered with blue mats. There were punching bags, wooden sparring dummies, and other martial arts equipment set up in various stations. High, long rectangular windows lined the right-hand wall, letting in bright early afternoon light.

A few clumps of men about Hei's age were scattered around the gym; some were going through drills, but most were just standing around chatting. Hei spotted Uncle sitting in the bleachers just to their left, studying some notes. He glanced up and spotted them at almost the same time.

"It's about time," Uncle said, smiling broadly as he stood to greet them. "Did you get your grandfather lost, boy?" He gripped Hei in a tight hug.

"We stopped for lunch at a noodle stand," Hei explained, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Japanese noodles?" Uncle made a face. "They served us some of those yesterday - too much salt."

"They just weren't what we're used to," Grandfather told him. "These were fine. How did practice go?"

"Oh, fine. Coach Yang puts far too much emphasis on holds still, but Jiang knows to avoid those."

"Well, it's not our team. Yang has own style of teaching."

"I realize that - and don't worry, I didn't try to correct him. I just think the team could benefit from trying other styles."

As Uncle was speaking, his gaze briefly shifted to something just over Hei's left shoulder; Hei thought he was trying to suppress a smile. Soft steps sounded directly behind him.

Even as the arms shot beneath his and jerked his shoulders up in a full nelson, Hei was already reacting. He whipped his hands out of his pockets, clasped them together, and pressed down to drop his shoulders and attempt to break the hold. Without waiting to see if it worked, he dropped his center and grabbed his assailant behind the knees, then pushed up and twisted to the side in a throw.

It would have worked - if his opponent had let go. Instead he tightened his grip around Hei's waist, pulling them both down to the mat.

But Hei had planned for that. As his opponent hit back-first with Hei on top of him, Hei turned his shoulder to drive into his chest as he planted his feet and pushed into a backwards somersault. He rolled free and came to an easy crouch just above his assailant's head, perfectly poised to deliver a slash to his exposed neck or a killing jolt to his brain.

"Enough," Grandfather called, almost sharply.

Hei looked up, awash with guilt. Had he gone too far? He hadn't had time to think, just react.

Jiang - the rational part of Hei's brain had known it was him; however, instinct wasn't always rational - wheezed a laugh. "Shit," he said, pressing a hand to his ribs. "Where did you learn to break a hold like that?"

"Picked it up somewhere, I guess," Hei lied. He offered his cousin his hand, palm up. Jiang took it and let Hei pull him to his feet. "How's your side - I didn't hit you too hard, did I?"

Jiang answered with a punch to his upper arm. "Fuck, you're exactly the same!" He grinned. "Of course you didn't hurt me, asshole."

Hei glanced warily over at the two older men. Uncle wore a fond smile while Grandfather was watching him thoughtfully.

"You've kept up with your training," Uncle said with an approving nod.

"A bit. I don't really drill much. But the police require weekly training sessions, so I guess I've stayed in shape."

"Jiang told me you work for the police - I didn't know they permitted non-citizens to join."

"Um." _Shit_. "I needed special approval, but it's not exactly against regulations. They wanted someone with my skill set; it wasn't a big deal."

In fact, according to his false papers, he was one-quarter-Japanese; a provision he'd included just in case the superintendent wasn't as inclined to bend the rules as Misaki was sure he would be.

And of course, she'd been right.

Jiang cracked his knuckles. "Right, let's do some sparring!"

"Only if Tian feels up to it," Grandfather said.

"What do you mean - of course he's up to it!"

"Uh, well, it's been a while since I've done any real wushu. Maybe not sparring; but we could do some _taolu_ forms or something."

It might actually be fun to spar with his cousin, like old times, since Jiang was much closer to Hei's level (beyond him in the technical forms, probably) than either Saitou or Kouno. But _because_ they were evenly matched, he'd have to watch himself much more carefully lest he slip into his Syndicate survival training. He didn't want to accidentally hurt his cousin - or let his family see even a hint of his predilection towards lethality.

"Yeah, okay," Jiang said, though he was clearly disappointed. "There's some spare uniforms in the changing room, I'll show you."

His cousin led him to a men's locker room just off the training floor. There weren't any wushu-style uniforms like the red Chinese team one that Jiang wore, but there was a stack of clean, white karate gi. Hei sorted through them until he found a top and bottom in his size.

"Hey, why didn't you answer any of 'Tu's messages this morning?" Jiang said as Hei went into a changing stall to put on the gi. "I had to listen to an earful about it."

"I apologized…None of them seemed urgent, so I didn't think to."

"Right. Shit - you wouldn't know."

"Know what?" Hei pulled on the bottoms; he already felt conspicuous in this much white. If he tried to work at night like this, he might as well wear a glow-in-the-dark target on his chest.

His cousin sighed. "There's a new rule in the family - well, it's an old rule to us, but you obviously weren't around for it. You have to answer a call or text right away, no excuses. Jiao-tu had a pretty good guess why I didn't answer last night, but she still tore me a new one."

That seemed pretty strict, even by Grandfather's standards. "Well, why _would_ that have been a rule I'd know? We didn't have cells back then."

"After Mom finally let us starting going to school again, Dad went out and bought some for everyone - all six of us. Spent a fortune. You remember what phones were like then; fucking bricks. We had to carry them everywhere, even when we were all together. I accidentally turned the damn thing off once, missed a call from Mom. She grounded me for a week. A fucking _week_."

Hei belted the gi and exited the stall to find his cousin glaring at him. "What?"

"It's your fault, you know. The phones. And Jiao-tu got a scholarship to come out here for school, did she tell you? But Mom and Dad wouldn't let her go, because they were afraid she'd disappear just like you and Xing. Wouldn't even let her leave Xi'an at all. It was practically a miracle Dad agreed that I could come to the Games - I'm pretty sure Mom's convinced she'll never see us again, just like you and Xing. And we get here, and here fucking _you_ are!"

Hei didn't know what to say to that. He knew, logically, that he wasn't to blame for anything that his family had chosen to think or do after he'd left; but he _had_ made the choice to leave, hadn't he?

Before he'd thought of any sort of response, however, Jiang shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, then broke into a grin. "Well, now that you're back, _you_ have to follow the fucking rules too, huh? Come on, let's go fight!"

Grandfather smiled when they returned to the bleachers; Uncle, however, frowned slightly. "No wushu uniform?"

"No; just these." Hei set his neatly-folded stack of clothes on one of the risers and placed his cell phone on top. Misaki was going to call when her meeting ended and she arrived at the hotel, and he didn't want to miss her. "Do you still do the same warm-ups?"

To Hei's surprise, Grandfather decided to put them through not just the warm-ups, but a full training session just as they'd done when they were kids - and he was directing them himself. It was an almost giddy feeling, to once again be standing side by side with his cousin on the mats, drilling front kicks while his _shifu_ paced up and down, watching their forms with a hawk's eye.

After one hundred front kicks, Grandfather moved them to cat stance side kicks. Hei had always preferred this stance; he had a better center here and it was the basis for most of his go-to defensive moves. After the first set, Grandfather nodded in approval at his flawless recoil. Hei had to fight from grinning like an idiot at the unexpected swelling of pride. It had been a long, long time since he'd felt that.

However, the giddiness soon turned to exhaustion - it _had_ truly been a long time since Hei had drilled repetitive motions like this. By the one hundred twentieth roundhouse his form was definitely suffering, while Jiang's was just as perfect as it had been at the tenth. Grandfather took pity on him and called a stop at only one hundred fifty. Hei tried not to take it personally, but he couldn't help feeling a bit disappointed in himself.

"Too much time sitting behind a desk, huh?" Jiang laugh with a slap to Hei's back as he leaned over to catch his breath.

Hei elbowed him in the ribs and straightened. "I told you, I don't drill much anymore. I bet I'm still better than you at gymnastics."

"Like hell you are! I'm an alternate for the _taolu_ team, you know!" Jiang glanced around the floor, then pointed to the far wall near where a small cluster of yellow-uniformed men from the Hong Kong team were standing around talking. "Front handsprings, all the way to the wall."

"You're on."

"I'm gonna wipe the floor with your ass!"

Hei didn't answer; taunts and grandstanding had never been his style. Instead, he folded forward and placed both palms on the mat, stretching out his wrists. He repeated the stretch on the backs of his hands.

"Ready yet, pansy?"

"Ready," Hei said as he straightened, shaking out his hands.

This was something that he _did_ still drill regularly. That competitive edge of his mind, which he'd kept sharp-honed during training but always reined in lest he be lured into taking unnecessary risk, was egging him on. The last time he'd indulged like this had been during his fights with Wei.

Grandfather clucked his tongue; Hei had almost forgotten he was there. "No need to get competitive, boys. We still have the _dan_ to go through."

"Go!" Jiang jumped forward into his first handspring; not to be outdone, Hei sprung forward after him.

Tumbling had always been his favorite part of wushu, and not just because he was good at it. He love the feeling of raw, coiled power in his muscles, waiting to be unleashed; the rush of blood to his head and lightness of limbs that felt almost like flying. He couldn't control what swings an opponent threw at him, but here he was in perfect mastery of himself.

He flipped down the length of the gym with the Black Reaper's signature agility, feet over hands over feet. On the eleventh handspring he passed Jiang; on the thirteenth he put an extra burst of power into his shoulders and landed on his toes just inches from the blue-padded wall.

Jiang hadn't measured the distance quite so well; nor had he managed to stay on a direct line. He threw up his hands to keep himself from crashing face-first into the wall, bounced off, and stumbled into one of the Hong Kong team.

"Whoops, sorry man," Jiang began with a laugh, but the other man shoved his shoulder hard.

" _Watch what you_ _'re doing, ass,_ " the man said in Cantonese. " _Go back to your beginner_ _'s drills_."

His buddies all laughed at that. Hei was pretty sure that Jiang hadn't understood him, but the man's belligerent tone was perfectly clear.

Hei lifted both hands in supplication. "Let's not start anything here…"

"I apologized, what's his problem? Fucking bastard." Jiang turned his shoulder and raised his middle finger dismissively.

There was no misunderstanding that. The Cantonese man threw a sharp kick at Jiang's hip. But Jiang had obviously been expecting that - and was waiting for the excuse. He rolled to the side, dodging the kick while aiming a right hook at the other man's jaw with all the wild energy of a street fight.

The Cantonese man had that same look of aggression in his eye, and his three friends were poised to leap in at any moment. Hei could see this spiraling out of control very, very quickly.

On impulse, he stepped forward and caught Jiang's elbow before he could connect with his opponent's face. He yanked hard; caught completely off guard, Jiang fell back on his ass with a surprised grunt.

The Cantonese man had already begun a blocking move with his left arm. With suddenly nothing to block, his balance took him too far forward. Hei ducked under the block, caught the man's arm over his shoulder, and flipped him flat onto his back.

Before the man had a chance to even realize what had happened, Hei had dropped one knee right onto his solar plexus and was pressing his forearm against his throat. Just a _little_ more pressure, and he would crush his larynx. A little more, and…

The man's eyes bulged slightly. If he'd been wearing his mask, Hei thought, the guy might have died of fright already.

" _Stop_ ," Hei ordered in Cantonese when the man's buddies looked about to jump in and save their friend. Behind him, he heard Jiang getting to his feet; in the distance, running steps approaching.

" _It_ _'s against the rules to hurt a member of another team!_ " one of the buddies protested. " _Let him up!_ "

" _I_ _'m not on any team. I'm with the Tokyo police, and I'll arrest you all for civil disturbance if you don't all walk away right now."_

The others hesitated for a long moment. Then the one who had spoken up said, " _Let him up first_."

Hei nodded once, then released the pressure on the man's throat. " _Try anything smart and I won_ _'t hold back next time_ ," he said in a quiet, steady voice.

" _Alright, alright_ ," the man choked out.

Hei then removed his knee and stood, offering his hand. The man eyed Hei warily, but accepted, and Hei pulled him to his feet.

" _Good luck with your matches tomorrow_ ," Hei told him with his best Officer Li smile.

That seemed to throw him more off balance than the takedown had; he rejoined his friends and they retreated to the other corner of the gym, casting glances over their shoulders as they went.

"That was fucking _amazing_!" Jiang said, punching Hei hard on the shoulder. "Where the hell did you learn that - is that how the police take down criminals and shit?"

"Uh, I guess. Every officer is required to be trained in aikido." Although what he had done wasn't _quite_ police-sanctioned aikido. Misaki would have pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow at him if she'd seen.

Uncle and Grandfather had reached them; Uncle was frowning after the Hong Kong team. "I should report them," he said.

"That would just get Jiang mixed up in it," Hei told him as they began walking back to the bleachers. "I don't think they'll be a problem."

"Nah, that guy was fucking terrified! Hey, how the hell were you talking to those bastards?"

Grandfather was regarding them both steadily. "Did you spend some time in Hong Kong too?"

"Uh, yeah." Hei couldn't meet his grandfather's eyes. He hoped he hadn't gone too far; at least police training was a good excuse.

Uncle turned to him. "Hong Kong? What were you doing there?"

All Hei could do was shrug. "Xing and I lived there for about a year."

"I thought whoever took you, took you out of China completely - that's why you couldn't come home. When were you in Hong Kong?"

They were all watching him now. He rubbed the back of his head. "When Xing was ten. I never said anyone took us out of China."

"You haven't said _anything_ \- you mean you left on your own?"

"What? Why the fuck would Tian and Xing leave like that, if they weren't forced?"

"That's what I want to know."

"Look, does it matter?" Hei interrupted. "We were in Hong Kong. We couldn't leave for about a year, then we left. That's all - hang on, that's my phone," he said as a tinny bell chimed.

He jogged the last couple yards back to the riser where he had left his cell and glanced at the message on the screen.

"It's Misaki," he told his family, and smiled in relief. "She's in the hotel lobby."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, writing out the poor grammar of a non-native speaker is super hard, especially when I speak neither the native nor learned languages. To avoid me butchering three different languages, assume that Misaki's grammar is actually much worse than how it's written.
> 
> Dialogue in all italics is Japanese.

Hei had to make a conscious effort to walk out of the training room rather than sprint. Being questioned like that made him feel as if he was still twelve years old; it was the tomato vendor's stall all over again. Except at least then Jiang had been standing trial beside him.

Then, his sister had still been alive.

It didn't matter how many times they asked him those questions; he was never going to have an answer for them.

At least Misaki was here now. He could face anything with her by his side - and, with any luck, his family would be so busy getting to know her that they would forget all their questions for him.

It was with vast relief then that he climbed the stairs from the access tunnel and saw her waiting for him in the hotel lobby. In fact, he almost missed her at first, despite that she was standing quite conspicuously in front of a decorative mirror by the elevators. Instead of the casual jeans and blouse that he'd been scanning the room for, she was wearing a cute blue and white striped spring dress with a cropped denim jacket. From the back, only her perennial ponytail and straight-backed posture identified her.

Hei paused at the top of the stairs for a long moment and watched her lean towards the mirror, arranging a lock of hair that had come out of its clip. He'd only ever seen her wear that dress once before, and the memory threatened to leave him grinning like an idiot.

He could spend all afternoon watching her like this; but he knew how quickly she'd get annoyed if he left her waiting alone for too long.

He crossed the room to where she stood and laid a hand on her arm. "Hey."

…And realized that he'd automatically kept his approach out of the mirror's reflection when Misaki jumped about a foot, her right hand flying beneath her jacket.

"Hei," she breathed, recognizing him. Then she punched his shoulder. "Damn it, don't sneak up on me!"

She was smiling even as she scolded him. Hei returned the smile and leaned in to kiss her cheek. "You look nice."

"Ew, don't, you're all sweaty - what have you been doing?"

"Just some sparring; I'll shower before dinner."

Misaki pursed her lips as she looked him up and down. "Those aren't your clothes."

"I didn't steal them, don't worry."

That answer didn't appear to mollify her. "You're changing though? Before dinner? I didn't see what you put on when you left this morning."

"Just jeans and a shirt - why?"

"How nice of a shirt?"

"That dark blue one that you like."

"That one  _is_  nice…I still feel a bit over-dressed though. Why didn't I wear pants…?" She smoothed the front of her dress over her stomach and cast a worried glance into the mirror.

"Misaki, you look great - what's wrong?"

She frowned at him. "You've said that twice now."

"Because it's true - you always look amazing. So what's wrong?"

She turned back to the mirror and fidgeted with her hair. "Nothing's wrong. I just - this is the first time I'm meeting your family. I want to make a good impression, that's all."

Misaki was so accomplished at projecting confidence that he sometimes forgot she had her own insecurities. He pulled her hand down and gave it a squeeze. "They're going to love you; my aunt and grandmother are already planning the wedding for us and they haven't even met you yet."

"Exactly - they  _haven_ _'t_  met me. What if they don't think I'm good enough for you?" she asked quietly.

"Then they'd be wrong, because you're  _too_  good for me." Hei leaned in and kissed her.

"But what if I can't even talk to them? My Chinese still isn't that great…"

"I'll be there to help translate if you need it; and don't worry, you can understand quite a lot already. Oh, except…"

She stared at him in alarm. "Except what?"

He shrugged. "Well, I taught you standard Mandarin, but the dialect my family speaks is a little different. But I'm sure you'll pick it up quickly."

"What?  _How_  different?"

Hei gripped her hand. "It'll be fine, I promise."

She sighed and let him lead her to the stairs. "If I ever gave you any sort of hard time about meeting my dad, I'm sorry - I had no idea how nerve-wracking this would be."

"At least  _you_  aren't the one who ran away from home to become an assassin."

Misaki blinked. "You told them?"

"Of course not." He hesitated. "I'm trying to keep them focused on the fact that I'm not dead, and that everything's fine now; but I'm running out of ways to avoid those questions. Oh, whoops."

They'd reached the doors to the access tunnel - the  _restricted_  access tunnel. Hei hadn't thought to borrow Grandfather's key card when he'd nearly bolted from the training gym.

Misaki pursed her lips. "Maybe someone at the front desk can -"

"Hang on." Hei let go of her hand and quickly glanced around the space: there was no one else on that level, and they were out of sight of the lobby. He mimed the motion of inserting a card into the electronic lock and used his fingertip to send just enough current into it to complete the circuit. The little light turned green and the latch clicked in the door. He pulled it open easily. "Okay, come on."

Misaki, however, folded her arms and arched one eyebrow.

"What? We're allowed to be back here."

"There's a security camera right behind me!" she whispered, as if there was a microphone in the camera too.

"Yeah - a dome CCTV camera, probably recording at only twenty or thirty frames per minute."

"You can tell just by looking at it?" Her expression turned thoughtful. "That frame rate is too low to pick up any synchrotron radiation bursts lasting less than a couple seconds…at best it'll just look glitchy. You know exactly how much you can get away with with each type of camera, don't you."

"Of course." He held out his hand. "But the longer you stand there, the more suspicious we look."

She shook head, then smiled and took his hand, stepping through the doorway. "I think we need to have a departmental workshop on reviewing CCTV footage of contractors. You can teach us all the little nuances that you know."

"Um, teach…?"

Misaki grinned. "You're the expert."

"Great."

He was not at all enthusiastic about the prospect, but at least the change in topic seemed to have distracted Misaki from her nerves.

"How were the meetings today?" he asked, hoping to keep her focused on work as they strode down the empty corridor.

"Hm. It was more challenging than I thought it would be to participate over a web call, instead of being there in person. I normally have to fight to get anyone to listen to me when I  _am_  there; today it was practically impossible. Eventually I just gave up."

"I'm sorry. That must have been frustrating." She would have been there in person if not for him; how could he make it up to her?

"Actually, I think it was for the best."

Hei turned to her in surprise.

"I mean, obviously it was extremely frustrating at first; I wanted to punch something every time I was talked over or interrupted. But then I realized that it was a great opportunity to watch and listen, pick up on what everyone was  _actually_  saying instead spending all my effort thinking about how to get them to listen to  _me_. I learned quite a bit."

They reached the end of the corridor. Hei let go of her hand long enough to trip the lock on this door as well, then guided her through. "And you wonder why they keep giving you more responsibility."

"Well, I learned it from you."

He blinked. "Me?"

"Of course. Don't think I haven't noticed how you never say a word during any of our debriefings or interviews, but you're usually the first one to put together the more subtle clues. It took me a while, but I finally figured out your trick."

"I didn't realize it was a trick," Hei said, nonplussed. "People just talk more when they realize someone is listening. Or when they  _forget_  someone is listening."

"Exactly," Misaki said; then her expression froze. "Wait, what did you mean, your aunt is already planning the wedding?"

"Don't worry about that; it's not -" Hei broke off abruptly as they rounded a corner outside the training gym and nearly walked right into Grandfather.

The old man halted in his tracks, his normally placid expression breaking into a warm smile. "I thought you must have been caught outside, without a key," he said, looking between the two of them.

"Oh, um, someone let us in," Hei said. Misaki gave his hand a hard squeeze; he wasn't sure if that was because she'd understood the lie in Chinese, or because she  _hadn_ _'t_. "Grandfather, this is Misaki. Misaki," he said slowly in Mandarin, "this is my grandfather, Xu Man."

Misaki smiled and bowed. "I'm very happy to meet you, Mr. Xu," she pronounced carefully.

Grandfather bowed in return. " _Pleased to meet you_ ," he said in halting, accented Japanese. Then he held out his hands and said in Mandarin, "I would be happy if you called me Grandfather. May I?"

"Oh - of course. Grandfather." Misaki actually blushed a little as she stepped forward to let Grandfather embrace her; Hei watched, flooded with a sudden, fierce happiness.

"Your Chinese is very good," Grandfather said, mimicking the patient cadence that Hei had used with her. "Did my grandson teach you?"

Misaki smiled up at Hei. "Yes. He's a good teacher."

Hei shrugged. "She's a fast learner. You know Japanese?" He hadn't given that impression at all during their walk that morning.

"Oh, I only learned  _hello_  and  _thank you_ ," Grandfather said dismissively. "That seems to me to be common courtesy, visiting another country." He turned to Misaki. "Everyone is waiting to meet you. Shall we go in?"

Misaki nodded, still blushing. Hei slipped an arm around her waist and they followed Grandfather into the training gym.

Uncle was by the bleachers as before, but Hei saw that now a couple other red-clad members of the Chinese team had arrived. They held traditional  _taolu qiang_ , aluminum spears with blunted tips and red horsehair tassels. Jiang was laughing with them on the training mats. However, when his cousin saw them enter, he broke away from the group and trotted over.

"Is this her?" Jiang asked Hei as Uncle greeted Misaki warmly if a bit reserved. Then he slung an arm around Hei's neck and said in a low voice, "Hm, glasses, cute - quiet teacher type, huh? Figures."

"Not even close," Hei said with a touch of pride.

"Right. Hey, does she look a bit older -  _oof_." Jiang nearly doubled over as Hei's elbow drove into his ribs.

"Problem, boys?" Grandfather asked mildly.

"No," they answered in unison.

Jiang straightened up. "Just happy to finally meet my dweeb cousin's girlfriend, that's all."

"I'm happy to meet all of you as well - Hei has told me so much about you," Misaki smiled.

Her words were met with confused silence; Hei, however, felt his blood freeze in his veins. Yet another stupid yet vital detail that he'd overlooked.

"Hei?" Jiang said at last. "You mean Tian?"

Misaki opened her mouth, then shut it again, casting a worried glance at Hei. " _Shit, I_ _'m sorry - you didn't tell them about your name?_ " she asked in quiet Japanese.

" _I know I should have; but how was I supposed to bring it up_?" To his family he said, "I, uh, don't go by Tian anymore. It's Li Hei now."

"Hei? What kind of dumbass name is that?" Jiang said.

Uncle frowned and crossed his arms. "Why would you change your name?"

"I'm legally dead - Grandfather signed the death certificate, right? How could I go around calling myself Li Tian, attracting attention?"

"Why do you have to be fucking dead in the first place? Just go to the courts and tell them you're alive, idiot!"

"Just whose attention were you trying to avoid?"

"Did Xing change her name too?" Jiang demanded.

"Um, yeah - she's Bai now."

Jiang snorted. "Black and white, real cute. What are you, a circus act?"

Hei risked a glance at Grandfather. The old man was staring at him as if he'd never seen him before.

"Your mother chose that name for you before you were even born," Grandfather said quietly.

Misaki reached out and gripped Hei's hand tightly.

"It's not a big deal," Hei said, drawing on her strength to keep the grief at bay. "Just call me Tian like you always have; Misaki and everyone else in Tokyo know me as Hei, that's all."

Jiang frowned. "Well I'm for sure not calling you something as moronic as  _Hei_."

"Anyway, it would be too hard for me to call him Tian," Misaki broke in. "Since he was Hei when we first met, and he rescued my life."

"Saved," Hei corrected automatically as the others stared.

"Yes, saved, sorry."

Uncle cast him a critical glance. "Yes, you said you two met through your work with the police?"

"Um, well, sort of."

"Oh yeah, that reminds me," Jiang said, leaning his elbow on Hei's shoulder. "My sister's been bugging me to get the whole story. She's a total sap for anything romantic." He rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to tell her about you fucking changing your name though, you've made her cry enough in the whole day that you've been alive."

Misaki listened intently, as if trying to solve a puzzle in his words - which, Hei realized, she basically was. Then she nodded seriously. "Well, the first time we met was in a toilet stall at a Chinese gangster's hotel."

Hei's family all stared at her; he felt the embarrassment rise up to meet his gratitude for her distraction. "Um, well, technically, but -"

"Then the second time," she continued on blithely, "I found him in a department store buying himself female clothes - no, what's the word? Fancy…?"

"Lingerie," Hei muttered. "Do you always have to tell it like that?"

She smiled innocently; Jiang burst out laughing. "What the fuck, man?"

"It wasn't for me!" They were going to have to have a lesson in grammar…

"Because that's the quickest way to a chick's heart - let her watch you pick out lingerie for another woman!"

"Oh, no, I helped him," Misaki said calmly. "He had no idea what he was doing."

Jiang was nearly doubled over laughing now. Grandfather looked as if he might be trying to hide a smile; Uncle, however, was still frowning. "How did this save your life?" he asked.

"Misaki's team was investigating the hotel owner," Hei said to give Misaki a break. It was hard enough to compose a story in a language one was still learning, let alone get the important details across while hiding others. He had much more practice at this than she did.

"She got caught in the rooftop garden by someone trying to kill her. I was working on the hotel's catering staff at the time, and happened to be there too. But really it was Misaki who saved me; she made sure I got off the roof with her, without getting hurt. All I did was help her hide in the bathroom and get one of her men to sneak her out."

" _Sure that's all you did_ ," Misaki snorted, but she cast him a warm smile. " _It was a total coincidence that you crashed through the window when you did._ _"_  She switched back to Mandarin and said carefully, "The man who introduced himself in the bathroom was Li Hei; so to me he'll always be Li Hei."

That wasn't exactly true; Hei had told her his name was Li Shengshun. But he knew what she meant; it had been  _Hei,_  acting as Li, who had helped her out that night.

Hei couldn't tell if Grandfather accepted that explanation or not; Uncle looked only partially mollified.

"So you work for the police too?" Uncle asked skeptically.

"Well, she's the one who hired  _me_ ," Hei said. "Technically, she's my boss."

"Technically?" Misaki raised an eyebrow. "I  _am_  your boss."

Uncle frowned at that; but before he could say anything one of the Chinese team members called from the mats, "Jiang! Are you going to practice with us or what?"

"Yeah, hang on!" Jiang called back. He turned to Hei. "These guys are going to run through their  _taolu_  routine for tomorrow - I said we'd shadow them, come on."

"Wait, what?"

"Come on,  _taolu_  was always your thing - you'll pick it up easy!"

"What is it?" Misaki asked.

"Choreographed dueling," Hei told her. "I used to be pretty good at it."

"Oh, I love watching you fight!"

Jiang threw an arm around his neck and grinned. "Never hurts to show off for your girl. Did you know this guy can balance on one leg for sixty-two seconds?"

Hei had to translate a few words for her; then she laughed. "I've seen him balance; I'm sure he can do longer than sixty-two seconds."

Hei hesitated. Misaki  _was_  always asking to watch his private training sessions, even though she knew perfectly well what he could do. " _Will you be alright on your own?_ " he asked her with a covert glance at Uncle.

" _I can handle myself, don_ _'t worry._ " She grimaced. " _I can only understand half of what anyone is saying anyway; I can just pretend to forget Mandarin completely if I have to_."

Hei nodded, then allowed Jiang to drag him across the mat to where the other two men waited. They were both lean and powerfully built, with the same buzzed haircut as Jiang. The taller of the two sported a rather silly, trim mustache.

"Hao and Feng," Jiang said, gesturing to each in turn. He clapped Hei's back. "This is my cousin Tian."

"The one who moved to America?" Hao, the mustached one, asked. "You visiting for the Games?"

"Actually, I recently left America to move here," Hei lied easily, ignoring Jiang's awkward cough beside him.

"Jiang said you were a pro at  _taolu_  - let's see what you can do!"

"Um, well, I used to be. I stopped practicing after I left for the States." He rubbed the back of his head.

Feng shrugged and grinned. "If the  _shifu_  trained you, you've got to be good. Come on, let's go!"

Hao tossed one of the aluminum  _qiang_  to Jiang, then turned to face off with his partner.

"You get the empty-handed role," Jiang told Hei. Then he hesitated and added quietly, "Look, about the America thing…"

"Don't worry about it. Empty-handed, huh? So, I get to die?"

The exaggerated death at the end of the duels had always been their favorite; though somehow Hei had seemed to end up playing the part of the loser more often than not.

Jiang grinned. "Just like old times!"

Hao and Feng demonstrated the first set at a quarter of the tempo they'd ultimately be performing at. Hei was glad of that; to say that the routine was technically challenging was a vast understatement. Still, he couldn't help get a little excited at the prospect of running through these old skills once again, to see what he had retained and where he'd improved through his Syndicate training.

Jiang sunk into a half crouch that mimicked Hao's and angled the  _qiang_  up, gripping tightly. Trusting in his balance, Hei leaned forward on his toes until the spear tip pressed into the center of his breastbone. If he breathed right, the pain was only mild.

Taking a deep breath, he sank an inch; Jiang followed the motion with the  _qiang_. Then Hei pushed up from his quads while sweeping his hands in a circle from below the  _qiang_  to knock the spear aside. Jiang let the end fall so that he was gripping it in a line parallel to the mat.

Hei jumped forward as if to aim a foot strike at Jiang's chest, but Jiang caught his foot on the shaft of the spear and pulled up with both arms at the same time that Hei pressed off into a backwards somersault.

Even as his foot left the  _qiang_ , Hei could tell that he had too much momentum. Instead of landing neatly on the balls of his feet, he hit on his heels, overbalanced, and fell backwards, rolling over his shoulder to come up on one knee.

"What the hell was that?" Jiang said. "You're not supposed to kick down!"

"You weren't supposed to press up!" Hei retorted. "I don't need help to somersault!"

Hao leaned on his own  _qiang_  and snickered. "When Jiang's training with Feng, he  _does_  need to help with the somersault.

"Hey, that move is a real bitch - I don't see  _you_  taking the empty-handed role!" Feng put in.

"Tch, I told you my cousin was better than you two pussies; come on, let's go again."

They went through the choreography set by set, bickering and bantering the whole time. Hei found that his ability to perform the advanced  _taolu_  moves had far outstripped his former skills; the problem was the choreography itself.

It had been twelve years since he'd last needed to learn any sort of routine. His training with the Syndicate had consisted of all-out fighting, in which he was forced to use his own skill and creativity to attack and counter on the spot in a close mimicry of what he would - and did - face out in the field. Even the training that he did with Section Four was largely unstructured sparring.

So although he had no problem mastering the forms in and tumbling moves in each individual set, he kept forgetting how they were supposed to connect together, to Jiang's increasing irritation.

"Just call out the beats," his cousin told him after the second time Hei had mixed up the series of attacks that came after sets two and three. "It keeps the pace and reminds you of the rhythm. Ha! Ha! Ha ha ha!" he called out to punctuate each spear thrust.

Shouting to announce every strike - Hei couldn't think of a faster way to end up more dead. "Yeah," he said wearily. "I'll try. Let's start from the second set again."

From time to time he glanced over to where Misaki was perched on the bleachers between Uncle and Grandfather. She looked generally amused as she watched the  _taolu_ , occasionally engaged in conversation with Grandfather. Hei was wondering what they were taking about when a stinging pain hit the side of his leg.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Fuck, you've got it bad," Jiang said, leaning on the  _qiang_. "You always fall apart when a girl is watching - you're not supposed to die until the fifth set!"

"Yeah, I know," Hei sighed. Misaki glanced over at him and smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I just really want her and Grandfather to get along well."

"What, they're talking, aren't they? Why wouldn't Grandfather get along with her?"

"It's easier for you…you grew up with Song, so everyone probably knew her pretty well by the time you decided to get engaged, right?"

Jiang's expression sobered. "Yeah, I guess… Were you really going to go and get  _married_  without coming home first?"

Hei shrugged. "We were going to come visit after the wedding."

"Who's that?" Hao asked, breaking off his set with Feng to follow Hei and Jiang's gazes. "Japanese girl?"

"Um, my fiancee."

"Pretty cute. What is she, some sort of school teacher?"

Jiang snorted. "A cop, apparently."

"A cop who could kick all three of your asses in aikido," Hei told them with a touch of pride. "Come on, let's run through the whole thing."

"Half tempo?"

"Yeah, I think I've got it now."

He had it up until the third set. After a series of kicks and punches to deflect the spear, the choreography began to slip from his mind again. He came out of the last defensive block to see the red-tasseled spear tip aiming straight at his chest.

He was  _supposed_  to let it roll off his shoulder, then backflip over Jiang's responding low sweep. Instead, survival instinct took over.

Hei caught the  _qiang_  in the crook of his elbow and in one powerful motion spun a rear kick directly into Jiang's chest. He whipped the spear around and had the blunted tip pressed into Jiang's throat even as his cousin hit the ground.

"Shit," Hei breathed as he realized what he'd just done. "I'm sorry - are you -"

"The  _fuck_  was that?" Jiang snarled, knocking the spear tip away. "Just flip over it, what's so hard about that?"

"I guess I'm not so good at dying anymore," Hei said quietly.

Jiang gave him a puzzled look; but before he could say anything Feng had clapped Hei on the back.

"Good move, man! I bet we can work that into another routine - but it's not a great idea to improvise right before a competition. Jiang might have to step in for one of us tomorrow, after all."

"Yeah," Hei said, running his hand through his hair. "Sorry."

"Time to wrap up, boys," Grandfather called from the stands. Hei jumped guiltily and turned to see his  _shifu_  watching him, expression unreadable. "We should get ready to head to dinner."

"Right." Hei reached down to help Jiang up. His cousin ignored the proffered hand, however, and got to his feet on his own. Hei passed him the  _qiang_.

"Guess you forgot more of your  _taolu_  than I thought," Jiang said as they walked across the mat towards the bleachers.

"I told you I did."

Misaki rose when they approached, her brow furrowed. " _Is everything alright?_ "

" _Fine,_ " Hei assured her.

" _Okay._ _"_  Then her expression cleared. "Why didn't you tell me you always wanted to be a police officer?" she said in Mandarin.

"Because I don't remember that." Hei glanced over at Grandfather; the old man was smiling placidly.

"Now do you believe me, that you're in the right place?"

Hei had to smile. "I learned to believe you a long time ago."

She nodded. "What was that hand - um, that…at the end…oh." Her mouth twisted, and she switched back to to Japanese. " _What was that move you were doing at the end - the one where you used your arms to block the spear without getting cut?_ "

"The end of the fifth set?" He brought up his arms as he tried to mentally go through the steps. "It's one, two, three, sweep and four."

Jiang's grin returned abruptly. "Does she want to learn it? It's easier to do with the  _qiang_."

"Jiang, have a sense of propriety," Uncle frowned. "Tian's fiancee didn't come all the way down here to horse around."

"No, I want to learn. It's useful for when there's a, um, person? Bad person? With a long?" She mimed jabbing someone with a spear.

"An enemy with a long-reach weapon," Hei provided. "It's like this."

He stepped back onto the mat, nodding for Jiang to follow. They went through the blocking move step by step a couple of times until Misaki was nodding.

"One, two, three, sweep and  _four_ ," she said. "Okay. I want to try."

Slipping off her flats, she stepped up next to Hei and brought her arms up into a defensive position to match his.

" _I knew I shouldn_ _'t have worn a dress_ ," she muttered. " _Hang on_." She shrugged off her denim jacket and handed it to him. " _That_ _'s better_."

Jiang and Uncle both gaped; Grandfather raised an eyebrow.

" _Oh, this too_." Misaki unbuckled her shoulder harness and passed both harness and gun to Hei. He accepted mildly. "Alright, I'm ready now."

"Whoa, you carry a gun?" Jiang burst out, lowering the  _qiang_. "I thought that was illegal in Japan?"

Misaki straightened up. "For police…" she trailed off and turned to Hei. " _I don_ _'t know how to say it in Chinese_."

"Oh, right." He wasn't sure that he did either, for that matter. His early training and missions in South America had been conducted in English; the police obviously used Japanese. He thought back to the time he'd had to impersonate an army official in Beijing and the military-speak that he'd studied then.

"Trained members of certain highly-specialized divisions are permitted to retain possession of their firearms outside of normal regulations, as they may be called upon at any time to respond to critical situations."

Jiang blinked. "What?"

"I mean… our department handles foreign agents operating in Tokyo; these days that usually means contractors. So if the local police encounter one and the situation gets out of control, we might be called in to help deal with the situation, even when we're off duty. So we're allowed to carry our weapons at any time, just in case."

"Contractors?" Uncle said sharply. "Why would you want to have anything to do with them?"

"I don't  _want_  to - it's my job."

"Hang on," Jiang said, "does that mean you have a gun too?  _You_? Where is it?"

Hei shrugged. "I don't usually carry it; I'm not that great of a shot."

"You're much better now that you got your contacts," Misaki told him with a smile.

Jiang snickered at that. "Contacts? You mean you wear glasses? Dweeb."

"My dad wore glasses."

"Oh. Yeah, that's right…"

"Anyway," Hei said hurriedly, "I'm going to get laser surgery; the contacts are a hassle." And a liability - one could get knocked out during a fight and distract or disorient him. "Let's show Misaki that move, then we can go eat."

Uncle didn't protest, but he folded his arms, and Hei knew that he'd only postponed that discussion rather than avoided it. Still, he would avoid it for as long as he possibly could.

Unsurprisingly, Misaki picked up the moves quickly, dancing back and forth in front of the spear while Hei provided the occasional bit of guidance. Mostly, though, he watched. He loved seeing her grim determination as she focused, her joy at learning something new.

"That's a good workout," she laughed, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. "Too bad wushu isn't more popular here in Japan; I would have liked to learn it."

"I can still teach you some things." Hei leaned in and kissed her; she blushed and swatted his arm.

" _Stop, you_ _'re still all sweaty!"_

" _So are you."_

"Jiang, Tian!"

Hei nearly flinched at the unexpected use of his old name; he turned to see Hao and Feng trotting towards them.

" _Shifu._ " They both bowed hastily in Grandfather's direction.

"Check this out," Hao said, holding out a cell phone for Jiang and Hei's inspection. "Those Korean guys showed us this."

A video app was queued up; a knot of dread formed in the pit of Hei's stomach. Shit, he'd completely forgotten about this…

"What is it?" Misaki asked, stepping up to look too. Damn, and he hadn't had a chance to warn her about it, either.

"Here, just watch." Hao pressed play.

The first emotion that Hei felt was relief - this  _wasn_ _'t_  the amateur video of his fight with the contractor in the armored truck. This video, he'd never seen before.

That relief was, however, immediately replaced by outright horror. The video was unfamiliar, but the scene it showed most definitely was not.

A CCTV camera perched in a location just below a drop-tile ceiling showed a bare, monochromatic corridor. For five long seconds, nothing happened; then a man in a guard's uniform sprinted into view from a side passage at the opposite end, firing a pistol behind him. The gunshots were eerily silent, denoted only by the visible kick of the gun after each shot.

The man dashed forward until he was just below the camera. He took a defensive stance, aiming his pistol down the hall with one hand while he spoke into a radio at his shoulder.

The screen flickered briefly; when the static had passed, the corridor was noticeably darker.

"I don't get it," Jiang said. "This some kind of ghost flick?"

Misaki, on the other hand, was watching with slowly widening eyes. Hei was sure that she'd caught the meaning of the change in lighting: an emergency generator kicking on after the main power had been knocked out.

"Just watch," Hao told them.

Four more guards ran into view from off screen, just behind the camera, to join the first. They arranged themselves with two kneeling in a line in front, three standing behind. All five were pointing their pistols down the corridor.

"What -" Jiang began, then abruptly cut off when a figure all in black with a white mask appeared at the end of the hall. In each hand was a wicked-looking, double-bladed knife.

Misaki found Hei's hand and squeezed; he felt only numbness.

The guards all opened fire at the same moment that the masked man dashed forward.

It was a high-quality camera; the film picked up each tiny spark as bullets ricocheted off the masked man's black cloak, each burst of black blood as the man slashed the throat of the first guard that he reached.

In what could have been a masterfully choreographed  _taolu_  routine, the masked man spun, kicked, and slashed, disarming his opponents seemingly effortlessly.

The guards who could still stand turned to hand-to-hand combat after losing their weapons, but each fell in turn - a broken neck, a knife to the ribs.

Finally one last guard remained; the masked man was down to just one knife. Drawing a bowie knife from his belt, the guard charged his opponent. They exchanged a rapid set of parries, almost too fast to track. The guard managed a slash at the man's collarbones, though it was impossible to tell if the strike had landed beneath all that black.

The move had left him open; the man caught the guard's blade between the twin edges of his own knife and twisted.

Disarmed, the guard tried to stumble backwards, but the masked man caught him by the throat and stabbed up into his ribs. The guard sagged.

In that moment a fallen guard behind the masked man rose unsteadily to his knee and aimed his pistol directly at the back of the man's head. Misaki gasped aloud and gripped Hei's hand so tightly that he thought he might lose a finger.

But just before this resurrected guard could fire, the masked man yanked his knife out of the other guard's ribcage. The motion swung his arm back where it connected with the arm holding the pistol. The gun fired; the bullet tore a harmless chunk out of the wall instead of the masked man's skull.

A black-gloved hand clamped down onto the guard's head. In the grayscale of the CCTV footage, the synchrotron radiation appeared as an almost angelic white glow around the man's form. Then an arc of white lightning enshrouded the guard's head and he collapsed, convulsing.

The masked man didn't wait long enough to watch him drop; instead, he turned towards the camera, mindless of the bodies surrounding him. One eye was covered with a splash of black blood, obscuring a painted lightning bolt. The man tilted his head to look out of his good eye, then strode forward, stepping over the fallen guards as if they weren't even there.

Standing directly below the camera now, he reached up. The lens was covered in blackness; there was a brief, white flash; then the feed went dead.

"Whoa," Jiang said, breaking the silence that had encased the little group. "Fucking bad _ass_. What  _was_  that?"

"Some footage that's been going around the internet in Korea," Hao said. "What do you think - contractor?" He uttered the last word in a hushed tone.

Feng shook his head. "No way. It was staged - scene from a movie or something. No one is  _that_  good."

"But did you see the blood? And that last guy was throwing up even while he was dying - movies aren't that messy."

"If he was a contractor, what was his superpower?" Jiang said. "Aren't they supposed to be things like telekinesis, or flying?"

"There was that bit at the end - how did that last guy die?"

"Good point; it was like lightning or something, but smaller."

"And that mask…super creepy."

"I've never heard of contractors wearing masks."

"What the hell would you know about a contractor anyway?"

"The way he finished off that last guy, though." Jiang gave a low whistle. "He knew exactly where to strike without even looking. That takes some serious skill!"

"Luck," Hei said dully.

The other three turned to him in surprise.

"What do you mean?" Jiang asked.

"I mean he had no idea that guy was still alive; it was pure luck."

Jiang snorted. "Did you even watch the video? It was too perfectly timed to be luck! Hey, you must have seen a contractor at least once before, right? With the police? What do you think - was this guy one?"

"Yes. He was."

"Where.  _Where_  did you get that video?"

All four men turned to Misaki. She was staring at the frozen screen; Hei had seen many a suspect quail under that piercing gaze.

"Um," Hao said hesitantly, and pointed a three Koreans across the gym. "Those guys?"

"Is there a date on it?"

"Seven years ago." Hei tapped the time stamp in Korean letters at the top of the screen. "Busan."

The time stamp didn't say anything about the location, but Hei remembered this mission. It had been one of his first after losing Bai and discovering his new power. He hadn't yet learned to rely on it, still falling back on his familiar knives.

" _Is it a problem?_ _"_  she asked him quietly.

" _No. I knew the cameras were there; that_ _'s why I had my mask. Anyone involved in that mission is dead_."

"Have you seen this guy before?" Jiang asked, looking between the two of them. "He's really a contractor?"

Misaki nodded. "This contractor was in Tokyo a couple years ago."

"Whoa, no shit? Did you catch him?"

"No. We didn't." She squeezed Hei's hand. "He left; and I hope I never see that man in my city again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hei and Jiang’s routine is based off of the second one in this video, starting at 5:40. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wcpk0QHACIQ


	12. Chapter 12

It was almost the worst thing that he could imagine happening. Having his old life, his old self suddenly dragged into the light in front of his own family.

They could have no possible idea that it was him beneath that mask; but it was still him they were watching, him they were judging. It was throwing him off balance, almost as badly as that first sight of Jiang had done.

That wasn't even the worst part: Misaki had seen the video too.

Of course she already knew who and what he was; but knowing wasn't even close to the same thing as seeing.

She'd seen a few of his victims – mostly death by electrocution, nothing terribly brutal or gruesome. She'd only personally seen him kill (or at least, attempt to kill) one contractor; another rather clean death, and one that had almost certainly saved her life.

This…the violent murder of five men whose only crime was standing between him and his employers' orders? This was different.

He knew she loved him; seeing this video wouldn't change that. But he'd give anything to rewind time just five minutes and take it all back.

Her grip on his hand hadn't lessened; Hei risked a sideways glance. Her face had taken on the same detached, professional expression that she'd worn the night he'd first broken into her apartment to tell her who he was – and throw himself at her mercy.

"But did you ever  _see_  him – like, face to face?" Jiang was asking her. Hao and Feng were listening with rapt attention; as were Uncle and Grandfather, he was dismayed to see.

Misaki pursed her lips. "A couple times. I got a shot off once, but that damn, um – what's the word? The coat?"

"Bulletproof," Hei supplied with reluctance.

He actively avoided glancing in Grandfather's direction, choosing instead to focus on the Korean team going through their routine on the opposite end of the training floor.

 _You were wearing your mask, and fighting with knives_ , he told himself.  _There_ _'s nothing there for them to recognize. They won't even think to look for familiarity._

"Right," Misaki said with a shake of her head. "Bulletproof. It didn't hit. Just bounced."

Jiang gave a low whistle. "No shit – bulletproof?"

"That explains those sparks," Hao mused. He stared at Misaki with a look of newfound respect. "But you actually tried to shoot this guy? What'd he do?"

"Ignored me, mostly. I wasn't exactly a threat." She smiled wryly and gave Hei's hand a surreptitious squeeze.

"Fuck. Is he really as badass as in the video?"

"Jiang, language," Uncle said sternly.

"What - she said  _damn_ , she doesn't mind."

Hei had to smile at that. "Swear words were one of first things she wanted to learn."

"Well, it's useful," she retorted. "If there's a suspect I…make? Hit?" She turned to Hei.

"Um, apprehend?"

"Apprehend? Okay. If I apprehend a Chinese suspect, I want to know when I'm being insulted."

Jiang laughed. "Shit, Tian, where'd you find this girl?"

Hei shrugged helplessly. "She told you – in a bathroom stall."

His cousin snorted, then turned back to Misaki. "So, what was he doing when you shot at him – killing people like those guards?"

Misaki hesitated. She was clearly uncomfortable with the topic, but didn't seem to be as nauseated or horrified as Hei would have expected. Still, she couldn't be half so uncomfortable as he was right now. "He had killed another contractor – which ended up saving my life, actually. Then he jumped out of a skyrise window."

"Wait, so he's dead? I thought you said he left Tokyo."

"Not getting killed is what he's good at – you saw that video." Misaki's smile was grim; but to Hei's surprise, he thought he detected a trace of pride that she was trying to cover up. "He just…jumped out. I don't know how he survived, exactly. But he did that sort of thing almost every time I saw him."

"Fucking amazing! Hey, Tian, did you ever see him?"

"That was before I joined the police," Hei said, trying – and failing - to figure out a way to end the conversation without arousing suspicion. Jiang's enthusiasm was only making it worse.

"Yeah, but you were here in the city, right?"

Hei shrugged. "Contractors weren't public knowledge then…"

"He's wearing a fucking mask and dressed up like a goddamn comic book villain!" Jiang said. "How could you miss him?"

"I'm sure he looked like a normal person when he wasn't breaking into guarded – um, secure? - places," Misaki said quickly. "We could have walked right by him on the street and never known."

"Huh, that's true. Hao, let's see that video again." Jiang squinted at the screen. "It almost looks like that last guard cut him at the end, but it's too hard to tell for sure. Shit, that guy had guts."

Or just a desperate fear of getting killed, Hei thought to himself, resisting the urge to adjust his shirt collar. That guard's knife had left a faint scar just beneath his left clavicle; it wasn't usually visible, even with the top two buttons undone. But still, it was there.

"Think we could make a  _taolu_  routine out of it?"

"Maybe; add in a more few acrobatics?"

"What about the guns?" Feng put in. "Those aren't exactly traditional."

"Damn, that's right. We could replace them with  _qiang_ , give him two  _dao_ ; that'll be sort of like those knives. Figure out the choreography from there."

"Maybe empty-handed would be better than  _qiang_."

"What about a mix of both?"

"It's too many people though – we'd have to cut it down to just two guards."

"Yeah, it'd be less impressive, but it could still work."

"We gotta come up with a cool name for it."

"Guy this badass has to have a badass name," Feng mused.

Hei slipped his arm around Misaki's waist. Despite her earlier complaints about him being too sweaty, she leaned into him now.

Maybe they could just back out of the conversation, talk to Grandfather about – about something. Anything. But when he turned, he saw that Uncle had taken Hao's phone; he and Grandfather were watching the video intently. Hei tried to suppress a surge of dread.

 _You had your mask_ , he reminded himself again.  _This is what it was for. To protect you. They can_ _'t see through it._

"Black spirit, maybe?" Jiang said, and only Misaki's hand on his kept Hei from flinching visibly. "He looks like some kind of demon, with that mask."

"Black snake?"

Jiang abruptly turned to Misaki. "Hey, is it true that contractors are named after the fake stars?"

She nodded, her brow furrowing.

"You must know this guy's name if you were investigating him – is it a star?"

"I…don't know how to say it in Chinese."

Misaki met Hei's eyes, and he saw the question in hers; it wasn't the obvious one. She knew exactly how to say  _Black Reaper_  in Mandarin; it had been the very second thing that she'd wanted to learn, even before  _damn_  or  _bastard_.

He wasn't going to translate that name for his family. It was too close to his own chosen name; Jiang's guess had been  _far_  too close. Instead he said, "BK-201."

Jiang wrinkled his nose. "Fucking stupid name. I like Black Snake better."

"Time to go get cleaned up, boys," Grandfather interrupted loudly, handing Hao back the phone. "It's getting late."

Hei could have hugged him in relief. Then Uncle said, "Hang on," and he had to resist the urge to bolt for the doors.

"Grandmother wants a photo of everyone," Uncle continued. "It's good to see Jiang and Tian together in uniforms again; let's take it now."

The blood froze in Hei's veins; he also didn't miss the emphasis Uncle had put on his old name.

Uncle pulled a small digital camera from his pocket and fussed with it for a moment. Hei would have bolted for the doors, except that his fight-or-flight instinct had landed on  _freeze and assess_.

"Aw, come on," Jiang said. "No more photos, you've taken enough this weekend already."

"Tian isn't in any of them," Grandfather told him. "Just one more."

"I'll take it for you," Misaki said, holding out her hand.

Grandfather smiled and shook his head. "Of course not. Then how would you be in it?"

She blinked. "Really? Are you sure?"

"We need the whole family. One of these boys here can help out."

Misaki blushed slightly and reached over to take her gun and jacket back from Hei – and paused. " _Hei, it_ _'s just a picture for your family; you'll be fine_."

" _I hate pictures of myself_ _…_ "

" _I know. But you managed one for the department directory, didn_ _'t you? Can't you suffer through one for your grandmother?_ "

She was purposefully making light of it, he knew; she was well aware of just how dangerous casual photos could be to him back in his Syndicate days. There was a reason he'd always worn a mask.

Still, she was right. It wasn't necessary to hide himself any longer. Hadn't he already decided to stop hiding his lack of existence from his family? It would be fine.

As long as they promised not to show the photo to anyone else.

"What's wrong?" Uncle asked, looking between the two of them.

"Nothing," Hei said hurriedly. "I was just translating something."

He and Misaki stepped up to stand next to Grandfather; Jiang squeezed in between Hei and Uncle and leaned his elbow on Hei's shoulder – though he had to reach up slightly to manage it. Hei wrapped his arm around Misaki's waist and tried to remember what a normal smile looked like.

Hao raised the camera. "One, two…"

" _How do you say_ _'I'm never wearing a goddamn dress again' in Chinese?_ " Misaki asked.

Hei smiled.

~~~o~~~

"Okay, I'll admit it," Jiang called from the shower cubicle next to Hei's, "your girlfriend is kind of a badass."

"I told you."

"Yeah, man, I know – but how was I supposed to believe my dweeb cousin would be so into someone like  _that_ , let alone actually land her! She's kinda bossy, though, huh?"

"She's in charge of an entire section; she's used to giving orders, that's all." Hei shifted the water temperature to a slightly cooler setting and ran his fingers through his hair.

Jiang snickered. "In the bedroom too, I'll bet!"

"No."

"No? The fuck does that mean?"

Hei smiled to himself. "It means no."

"Sure man, whatever," Jiang said disbelievingly. "She really takes a gun with her everywhere? Fuck, Song would flip her shit if I told her I wanted to get a gun. You can carry one too, right – why the hell don't you? Who cares if you're a lousy shot?"

Hei shut off the water and reached for the towel draped over the dividing wall. "They make me uncomfortable," he admitted. "Anyway, Misaki needs it more than me; she's pretty good at hand-to-hand, but she can't overpower anyone larger than her."

"Yeah, but it'd still be good to have, right? What if you run into a fucking contractor or something? Or even just a normal criminal with a knife?"

"We always work with partners. Misaki or whoever I'm with can provide cover while I close. It works." He threw the towel around his shoulders while he zipped up his jeans; then shirt in hand, stepped out of the cubicle to toss the towel in the hamper.

Jiang was already in the changing area, pulling on a t-shirt. "Yeah, but have you actually –  _fuck_."

Hei had just slipped his arms into the sleeves of his own shirt; he glanced up to find Jiang staring at him wide-eyed.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Jiang asked quietly.

Hei cursed himself for his carelessness. Even at work and the gym, he made sure to change only in private. Yet every conversation with his cousin seemed to have the unwelcome effect of relaxing his guard. The long ridge under his left ribs, the old bullet wound on his right hip – his scars were faint and few, but they told a story that begged too many questions.

He turned away slightly so that the white line just beneath his collarbone would be harder to notice and began buttoning his shirt. "Life was hard for a while. Now it's not."

"The fuck does that mean? What –"

"I don't want to talk about it," Hei said shortly. "Let's go eat."

"Yeah…" Jiang hesitated, then followed him out of the locker room.

~~~~o~~~~

"How does Chinese sound?" Hei asked as they all stepped out of the hotel's front entrance beneath the portico.

Jiang had been uncharacteristically quiet on the walk up, but Misaki hadn't once let go of Hei's hand since he'd returned from the locker room. He was anxious to get away from the training gym; it was easier to avoid talking when everyone had plates of food in front of them.

Uncle's expression brightened. "Is there a restaurant here with Shaanxi-style cuisine?"

"Well, no - this place is more Beijing-style. But it's pretty good. It's the one we passed by this morning," he added to Grandfather.

The old man nodded. "The photos on the window looked good. And it's close enough to walk. Let's go there."

"Actually, I need to move my car from the garage," Misaki said, giving Hei's hand a significant squeeze - though he wasn't sure what she was trying to tell him. "Do you all mind if we drive over and meet you there?"

"Of course," Grandfather said. "I remember the way."

"You don't have to wait with us," Hei told them as Misaki handed her ticket to the valet. "It'll take longer for you to walk than for us to drive."

"We don't mind waiting," Grandfather said with a wave of his hand.

Hei knew better than to argue. Instead, he filled the time by giving detailed directions to the restaurant, just in case Grandfather didn't remember quite as well as he thought. The old man listened patiently, a half-smile on his face.

"No fucking way!" Jiang burst out.

Hei didn't need to turn to see what Jiang was talking about; he'd heard the quiet purr of the Porsche's engine even before it pulled up under the portico.

Jiang circled the front, reaching out to touch the hood before thinking better of it; Misaki had just had it detailed the week before and the paint was still glistening.

"Is this really your car?" he asked, looking between Hei and Misaki.

"Misaki's," Hei said as the valet climbed out and handed Misaki the keys. "She lets me drive it, sometimes."

"You can drive it any time you want and you know it," she said. "Actually, would you mind driving to the restaurant?"

Hei glanced at her in surprise. "Sure."

He bid a temporary goodbye to his family, then he and Misaki climbed into the Porsche. As he adjusted the seat and mirrors, he watched them walking away down the street. A pang of loneliness struck him almost like a physical blow at the sight of his grandfather's back receding in the distance.

Misaki reached over and gripped his hand. He smiled at her, then put the car in gear.

It was true that she had no problem with him driving her car any time; it was just that unlike her apartment, which had very quickly become  _their_  apartment, the Porsche would always really be hers.

In any case, he preferred walking over driving. A car could provide a quick getaway, of course, but it was too easily tracked. Walking gave him many more escape routes and kept him more active. Plus, it was nice to feel the solid sidewalk beneath his feet, listen to the sounds of the city around him…in those times when he'd struggled with the reality of existence, walking helped him find a tenuous connection to the people around him. Helped him feel  _alive_.

Although, driving the Turbo 911  _was_  a lot of fun, he realized as he shifted lanes around a slower car. Maybe he ought to offer to drive more often.

It was just unlike Misaki to ask. He glanced over at her; she was sitting with her legs crossed, absently picking at the hem around her knees.

"Did everything go okay this afternoon?" he asked. "I'm sorry I left you alone so long…"

"No, it was good. I really enjoyed talking with your grandfather. It was hard to understand everything, but he made sure to speak slowly and helped me with some words." She smiled. "He's very proud of you, you know."

Hei brushed aside a twinge of discomfort. "What about Uncle?"

"Hm, he was mostly watching you and your cousin practice; he didn't say much, and it was always too fast for me to really catch."

"What did you talk about?"

"Well,  _I_  wanted to hear all about you when you were a kid, but your grandfather mostly asked about me - what my job was like, my family, that sort of thing. I got the impression that he was making an effort to really get to know me, even though he probably understood less than I did."

Hei pulled into the parking garage that served the restaurant and its surrounding shopping area. He parked the car, shut off the engine, and turned to Misaki. As he'd expected, she didn't make a move to unbuckle and get out.

"What's wrong?" he asked her quietly.

"Nothing." She drew a skaky breath; he waited. After a moment, she continued, "I just…can't get that video out of my head. I wish I hadn't seen it."

Hei ran his hands along the steering wheel, trying to collect his own thoughts. "Oh."

They were both silent for a long moment. Then Hei said, "I'm sorry you saw it too. That's not…that's not a side of me I ever wanted you to see."

"I watched it, and all I could think of was seeing you with blood pouring down your face, that contractor about to kill you." She was speaking rapidly now; she didn't seem to have even heard what he'd said. "Obviously that guard in the video didn't kill you, but he  _could_  have. Just like that contractor. Three weeks ago, I got there just in time. But what if I hadn't? I didn't even  _know_  you seven years ago - how many times have you almost died before I even had a chance to meet you?"

Hei unbuckled his seatbelt, then leaned over and brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. In that moment, it didn't matter what his family may or may not think of him. Only that he could make Misaki happy.

"I'm doing my best not to die," he told her, cupping her cheek. "You said it yourself - I'm pretty good at surviving. And now I have even more of a reason to."

"I know." Misaki sniffed, then wiped a tear away with angry swipe. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."

He kissed her; she wrapped her hand around the back of his head to pull him in even closer.

"Do you want to skip dinner?" he asked when they broke apart. "I know today wasn't easy for you."

Misaki sniffed again, but shook her head. "No. I want to get to know your family better. Besides," she added, that fierceness that he loved gleaming in her misty eyes, "I still need to get all the dirt on you from when you were kid. I think your cousin will be very willing to help out there."

"Great," Hei said; but he couldn't suppress a small smile.


	13. Chapter 13

Even with the delay in the parking garage, Hei and Misaki were the first to arrive at the restaurant.

From the outside, it looked like nothing more than a tiny hole-in-the-wall dive. Inside, however, the room was quite spacious, with red and gold cloth-covered tables and traditional Chinese art decorating the walls. Walking in was almost like stepping through a doorway to home.

"Li!" the young host exclaimed as Hei held the door open for Misaki. "And Chief Kirihara! We haven't seen you for a while; I almost didn't recognize you, Section Chief. Table for two?"

He had addressed the question to Misaki, but Hei saw the annoyance flash across her face and wondered if he ought to answer instead. The look disappeared just as quickly as it had come, however, and Misaki responded with a curt but friendly, "Five, actually. Thanks, Ying; it has been a while. How are your classes going?"

The young man beamed. "Good! I was accepted to the Criminal Justice program; it starts next month."

Misaki's smile took on a bit more warmth. "I'm glad to hear that - did my letter help?"

"I'm sure it did, thank you! Is the rest of Section Four joining you?" Ying asked as he led them to a round table with a golden tablecloth in the center of the room. It was a bit early for dinner, but the place was already beginning to fill up.

"Mr. Kimura was just saying the other day that we needed to invite you all back here soon," Ying continued. "It's good for business, being the unofficial Chinese restaurant of Tokyo's top police department. Our takeout menu has changed, I'll get you new copies."

"Actually, some of my family are visiting," Hei told him. "They should be here in a minute."

He seated himself in the chair that gave him the best line of sight to both the main doors and the kitchen entrance, which led to the back exit. Misaki gave him a look of mock-suffering - she knew he'd probably never be able to give up those old habits, and had stopped trying to break him of them - and pulled out the chair to his right, tucking her skirt beneath her as she sat.

Ying's eyebrows rose. "All the way from Shanghai? Wow!"

"Um." Hei gave an uncomfortable cough. "No; Xi'an, in Shaanxi Province."

"Really? I could have sworn you were from Shanghai."

Hei ignored the side-eyed glance that Misaki was giving him and kept his expression innocently blank. It wasn't  _his_  fault that Li Shengshun had been from Shanghai. "Nope. Xi'an."

"Still, that's a quite a trip, huh. Do you want to order now, or wait until they get here?"

"We'll order now, thanks."

Ying was just writing down the last of the order when the swinging of the front door caught Hei's eye. Hei let out a breath of relief that he hadn't realized he'd been holding when Grandfather walked in, followed closely by Jiang and Uncle.

Grandfather glanced around the room; he smiled when he spotted Hei and Misaki and led the way over.

Ying bowed and greeted them warmly in Mandarin. "You must be Li's family," he said. "Very happy to meet you - please have a seat and I'll bring out some tea!"

"Shit, man, you really do know everyone in this town," Jiang said as Ying left for the kitchen. "You must eat here all the fucking time if they know your name!"

He pulled out the chair on Hei's other side. Grandfather had chosen to sit beside Misaki, Hei was gratified to see. That left Uncle directly across from Hei, between Jiang and Grandfather.

Hei shook his head. "I worked here for a while; I know Ying from then, that's all."

"Here? The police is way more badass, no wonder you quit."

"Well, I didn't quit just to join the police. And I liked working here - I got all the free food I wanted. But yeah, I think I like Section Four better."

Actually, he'd quit because he'd needed to spend a month infiltrating the Friends of the Gate cult; after that, Amber had put her plans into motion and he'd been completely consumed with trying to track her down while following increasingly complicated orders from the Syndicate and coordinating information hand-offs with Misaki. He hadn't had a chance to even think about asking Mr. Kimura for his part-time job back before he'd had to go on the run.

"That young man had a strange accent," Uncle commented.

"His family's from Beijing, but he grew up in Chinatown; in Yokohama."

"Hm." Uncle pulled out a pair of reading glasses - Hei had never seen him wear glasses before - and picked up the menu. "What's good here?"

"Everything. I ordered already, don't worry."

"Did you get enough?" Jiang asked, slapping down his own menu. "I'm fucking starving!"

Uncle chuckled. "I remember the mountain of food you boys used to eat - Jiang still does. Mother spends most of every day cooking, just to keep up. I imagine you're the same?" he asked Misaki.

"I can set my watch by his stomach," she said with a laugh. Hei noticed that she made no acknowledgment of the actual question. "My team used to tease me about how much  _I_  eat, until they met him!"

Ying reappeared then, this time with a steaming clay teapot and a stack of round cups. "Mr. Kimura knew it was you and Chief Kirihara as soon as I put the order in," he told Hei, setting out the cups. "No one else ever orders that much food in one go - it must be enough for twenty people!"

"I got enough," Hei told Jiang with a grin as Ying returned to the kitchen. "Don't worry."

Grandfather reached for the teapot, but Misaki beat him to it. "Let me," she said with a warm smile. She poured out a cup for Grandfather, then another for Uncle.

Hei took the pot from her before she could pour one for him. He appreciated that she was making such an effort, but subservience from her was just too unnatural; it made him uncomfortable. As the junior member of Section Four,  _he_  was the one who fetched the tea for the whole team - a fact that Kouno never let him forget.  _Deadly contractor, feared assassin_ _…pourer of tea!_ the detective would announce at every morning debrief.

Misaki gave him an exasperated look, but didn't comment as he poured out his own cup before passing the pot to Jiang.

Uncle blew on his cup, then took a sip. "The chef's name is Kimura? I thought this was a Chinese restaurant."

"Mr. Kimura's Japanese, yes," Hei said. "But he lived in Beijing for about a decade and learned to cook traditional dishes there. The food's authentic, don't worry - his dumplings taste exactly like what you'd buy on the street."

"How would you know?" Jiang asked. "You lived there too?"

Hei shrugged. "For a while, yeah."

"Tokyo, Hong Kong, Beijing - you've traveled all over, but never had time to come back to Xi'an?"

"No."

Hei took a long sip of the scalding tea to avoid making eye contact with anyone at the table. Beneath the gold cloth, Misaki reached over and squeezed his knee.

"Grandmother and I took a trip to Beijing once," Grandfather said mildly. "There are some beautiful temples there. You probably don't remember, Hong, you were still very young. An loved it though. She'd never seen the ocean before."

"Mom told me about that trip once," Hei remembered suddenly. "She said she loved the waves so much, she could float in the water for days. Xing was the same, the first time we swam in the ocean."

"Where was that?"

"Um, Hong Kong," Hei lied.

Hong Kong had been the first time that they'd seen the ocean; while Hei had marveled at such a vast expanse of water, Xing hadn't been interested at all.

The first time that they'd actually stepped onto a beach and swum in the waves, though, had been off the northeast coast of Brazil, outside of a little deserted fishing village that they'd stumbled across after having escaped a band of mercenaries.

Amber had talked them into taking a quick swim. Xing hadn't seen the point, but after much coaxing from Hei finally humored him and stepped into the water. Her almost childlike expression of wonder at the feel of the sand rushing away beneath her feet at the retreat of the waves had nearly brought tears to Hei's eyes.

For his part, floating in the gentle rise and fall beyond the breakers, he'd felt light, almost as if he'd been transported to a world before the Gates, before contractors, where he'd never had to worry about anything more serious than getting his homework done before bedtime. He would have killed any number of men to feel that again, to see that innocence return to Xing's face.

"What's so great about the ocean?" Jiang broke into Hei's silent reminiscence. "It's just a lot of water. Anyway, when did you learn how to swim?"

"I don't know, a while ago. It's kind of fun, as long as I don't have to do laps."

"Laps  _are_ fun!" Misaki protested. "I don't understand why you hate them so much. Even if you do look like a, um, how do you say it?"

Hei eyed her, then sighed. "A pregnant hippopotamus, is what  _you_  say.  _I_  wouldn't say that…"

Jiang snorted a laugh. "I bet you do, though!"

"Like you could do any better!" Hei shot back with a smile. "You'd probably look like a drowning duck."

"Yeah, right - how hard can it be? You just paddle with your arms and kick your feet, right? That's easy enough!"

"That will keep you from sinking," Misaki said. "But the actual strokes can be technically challenging."

"Misaki swam competitively in school," Hei told them with no little pride. "She's won quite a few trophies."

"Just regional competitions. My dad has all the trophies packed up in a box, I don't know why he keeps them." She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear; Hei could tell that she was trying hard not to blush.

"He must be proud of you," Grandfather said kindly. "Do you swim still?"

"A little, in the mornings. Just to stay in shape, you know?"

"An hour every single day," Hei added.

Grandfather nodded in approval. "Very disciplined."

She definitely blushed at that; but she was saved from further conversation when Ying brought two dishes of fried rice to the table.

"You ordered two of the same thing?" she asked as the young man set them on the cloth. "I didn't catch that; you said everything so quickly. Wait…" She eyed the dish closest to her, and gave a snort. Then scooped a heaping pile onto her plate.

Jiang studied the two bowls closely. "Fried rice with beef, except one doesn't have peas. Why would you order one without peas?" He glanced at Misaki and the bowl she was serving herself from. "You don't like peas?"

"Not particularly. Still, Hei, you didn't need to order a separate dish."

"I know."

"Before we were dating," Misaki said around a mouthful of rice, while everyone else helped themselves to both dishes, "when Hei was still working here, we met for lunch one day and he brought me some leftover fried rice. I hate peas, so I didn't eat them, but I didn't say anything about it. Then a couple weeks later we met up again, and he brought me food like before. Except the rice in my takeout container didn't have a single pea, while his was full of them. He must have picked out every single one before packaging it up to give it to me."

Jiang laughed. "Smooth, man!"

Hei blinked at her. "You noticed that?" She'd never said a word about it.

"Of course I noticed. I'm a highly trained police detective, aren't I?" She smiled. "You can learn more about a person by watching and listening than talking, right? I had a pretty solid idea of exactly what sort of person you were before we ever - before we started dating."

"Typical." Jiang shook his head and took a huge spoon from both rice bowls. "You gotta watch this guy - he always was a ladies' man."

"Oh really?"

"What? No I wasn't." Hei didn't like that gleam in Misaki's eye.

Jiang jabbed at Hei with his chopsticks. "Yeah, of course you weren't - like when you offered to make a new kite for that blond girl? Even though she could just buy a new one?"

"It tore when I got it down from the tree - I was just being nice."

" _Blond_?" Misaki asked in Japanese. " _Is that what he said_?"

Hei  _really_ didn't like the look in her eye now. He wished that Jiang had left that little detail out; Amber was one topic that he and Misaki still couldn't have a calm and measured discussion about. It didn't help that Hei had never fully sorted through his conflicting feelings on Amber's role in his life.

These arguments were what had led Misaki to suggest therapy - but he wasn't even close to getting to the subject with Haruko yet. As it turned out, strangely enough, there were a lot of deep-seated issues  _in addition_  to Amber that he'd never managed to deal with. She was just the tip of the iceberg.

"She was closer to brunette," he said hurriedly. "Anyway, it was a long time ago. I barely remember it."

Jiang snickered; but Grandfather was chuckling too.

"Tian was always a kind-hearted boy," Grandfather told Misaki. "I'm sure you already know that."

The warmth crept back into Misaki's smile. "I do."

Ying made another appearance at the table then, this time bearing a plate stacked high with steaming dumplings. He set it in the center of the table.

Hei glanced to his left and caught Jiang's eye. No sort of signal passed between them; but at the same instant they both half-rose from their chairs, chopsticks darting for the top bun. Hei slipped in just under Jiang's chopsticks and snagged the bun first.

"Fucker!" Jiang exclaimed, pounding his fist on the table. "I'll beat you one of these days!"

"I doubt it," Hei said around a mouthful of bun. He reached out again, more leisurely this time, and selected a bun for Misaki.

Her lips quirked up in amusement. "I don't think I've ever seen this competitive side of you before. Not even during team sparring."

"These two boys," Uncle said as Ying delivered yet more plates of food, "competed over everything. On the wushu mats we couldn't get Tian to press an advantage to save his life; but tell him that he couldn't hold his breath as long as Jiang and they'd both be passing out, blue in the face."

"He just doesn't like people watching him," Jiang said. "Stage fright. Like a little girl."

"I don't have stage fright!" Hei protested, though inwardly he thought Jiang might be right. His bulletproof coat had never made him feel half so invincible as when he slipped on his mask. Even the black kerchief that he'd used in South America had given him far more courage than any knife or garrote.

"Then why'd you always fight so much better when it was just the two of us?" Jiang demanded.

"He did?" Uncle asked in mild surprise. "I don't think I ever noticed. We never paired the two of you up that often, and you never sparred outside of class. Horsed around and generally made asses of yourselves, yes; but not sparring."

"I believe Jiang is referring to the times he and Tian would sneak in to the training room in the middle of the night."

They both turned to Grandfather in surprise.

"What?" Hei asked as Jiang said, "We didn't -"

Grandfather cut them off with a wave of his hand. "Did you really think that I didn't know? And why do you think I never said anything?"

They exchanged a look. From Jiang's expression, he'd had no better idea than Hei that Grandfather had known about their little excursions on those nights when the Li family had stayed over.

"Don't look so guilty," Uncle laughed. "It's hardly the worst thing you two have ever done."

"They got in trouble a lot, I take it?" Misaki asked, that mischievous glint back in her eye. "Hei told me about the fireworks."

"Which fireworks?" Jiang said. "The ones at the lake house or the ones in the vegetable market?"

Hei coughed loudly as Uncle said, "Vegetable market? What was this?"

"Shit, um, I mean, that was some other kids. Not us. Never mind. Anyway, it was Tian's idea."

"What? No it wasn't."

"You're the one who got the fireworks."

"I just wanted to test them out - it was your idea to set them off in the market!"

"Well where else would we have done it?"

"I don't know - at home? In the courtyard? Somewhere where we wouldn't give some poor old lady a heart attack?"

"And scorch Grandmother's whitewash? She'd murder us! Anyway, no one had a heart attack, that lady was just being a whiny little bitch!"

Hei snorted. "That's what you always say - you said  _I_  was being a whiny little bitch when we ended up stranded in the middle of the lake!"

"Well, you were! Moaning about how we were going to miss dinner just because you dropped the oars."

" _You_  dropped the oars. I was more worried about drowning than missing dinner - that was you."

"It was your idea to build the damn raft in the first place."

"I just wanted to see if it would float; you're the one who thought it'd be a good idea to get it on it."

"And whose idea what it to paddle to the middle of the fucking lake?"

"Well, the water by the shore was too shallow. How else were we supposed to test it? It's still your fault we lost the oars."

They continued arguing good-naturedly as Ying cleared off the empty dishes to make room for new ones. Uncle would occasionally interject to remind them of yet another stupid thing they'd done. Grandfather, Hei noticed, wasn't eating much, but rather sitting back and listening to the arguments serenely.

It wasn't until Ying brought out the Peking duck that Hei realized that Misaki hadn't said a word in quite some time.

" _I_ _'m sorry,_ " he said to her in Japanese as everyone divided up the duck. " _We_ _'re probably speaking too fast, aren't we_."

" _It is pretty hard to follow_ ," she said, smiling. " _But I don_ _'t mind. I've never heard you laugh like this before. I'm happy just listening_."

Hei didn't know what to say; he could feel a self-conscious blush rising in his cheeks.

" _Anyway, the duck is getting cold_ ," Misaki said abruptly. She reached across the table and took a huge slice.

Jiang paused, his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. "You're  _still_  hungry? Damn, I've never seen a girl eat so much!"

"Duck is my favorite," Misaki said calmly. "Hei made this dish for me for my birthday. That's when I decided that he was definitely worth keeping around." She flashed Hei a quick grin.

He huffed a laughed and scraped the remnants of the platter onto his plate.

Misaki continued, "Oh, that reminds me. When is  _his_  birthday? He can't remember, and I feel bad not being able to celebrate it on the proper day."

Everyone turned to stare at Hei. Uncle frowned with clear disapproval.

"I think you may have misspoke," Grandfather told her kindly. "It sounded like you said Tian can't remember his birthday?"

Hei shifted awkwardly. "No, that's what she meant. I, uh, I'm not really sure when my exact birthday is."

"Who the fuck forgets their  _birthday_?" Jiang snorted. "The hell is wrong with you?  _We_ all remember it - we hold those goddamn remembrances every year. You knew Xing's was yesterday, right?

"I remember hers, yeah," Hei said with an uncomfortable shrug. "But after we left home, it just didn't seem important to celebrate mine. So it just slipped my mind, I guess."

Jiang and Uncle were both still staring at him like he was from another planet. Then Grandfather spoke up.

"November first," he said.

Hei's brow furrowed. "Really?"

" _That's the date you put on your papers_ ," Misaki told him in surprise.

" _Huh. Maybe I did remember it, subconsciously_?" He thought about the discussions that he'd had with his therapist, about how he'd chosen so many times to use his father's name as an alias without consciously realizing it. All those memories that he thought he'd buried irretrievably deep were much closer to the surface than he'd ever imagined.

Misaki perked up. " _That_ _'s only a couple weeks after I gave you your key - so I didn't miss it by too much!_ "

" _Yeah, I guess not._ " He smiled.

"Well," Uncle said, still clearly struggling with the idea of forgetting a birthday, "if Tian was kind enough to cook for you for your birthday, now you know when to make a special dish for his."

"Oh, I can't even boil an egg. I'll just take him out for a good meal so he doesn't have to cook it for once."

" _You_  do the cooking?" Jiang goggled at him.

"Yeah. Why not? I enjoy it - and it keeps Misaki from burning down the kitchen."

She punched his shoulder. "It was only one tiny piece of tofu, and the flame went out almost right away!"

"All you had to do was stir the pan…"

"You never told me how hard," she huffed.

Uncle raised an eyebrow. "Well, you'll have plenty of time to learn how to cook after you're married, I'm sure."

Misaki chewed deliberately before answering. "Why? My schedule isn't going to change at all."

"If anything, she'll be even busier," Hei added. He knew Misaki was perfectly capable of defending herself; but with the questions coming from  _his_  family, he felt responsible for shielding her. "Our superiors have been giving her a lot more responsibility recently."

" _They just want to see me crash and burn_ ," Misaki muttered, poking at her steamed vegetables.

"They know you can handle it," Hei told her.

"You're not going to leave your job?" Uncle asked in surprise. "I always heard that Japanese women were very traditional in that way."

"A lot of Japanese women are. I'm not."

"Still, I imagine you'll quit once you start a family."

Misaki set her chopsticks down beside her plate. Hei was infinitely grateful that Grandfather was between her and Uncle.

"We, um, haven't talked about a family," he said hurriedly, ignoring Jiang's snickers. "And even if we do decide we want one, there's no reason for Misaki to quit. Not when she loves her work so much, and is so good at it."

"Really? Police work sounds far too dangerous for women, especially expecting mothers. Tian, you'll have to think about what's best for your family; if you really want your children's mother to be away at work all day."

"My mom worked," Hei said quietly. "Xing and I were fine."

A look of pain crossed Uncle's features. "I'm not sure I would say that."

"Hong, you know perfectly well that your sister would have been bored to tears sitting at home all day, especially once the kids started school," Grandfather said, quiet but firm.

"Yes, she probably would have. But at least she would have been  _home_ , to teach her children not to run away at the slightest problem."

Hei frowned, his heart rate kicking up a notch. "What do you mean, run away?"

Grandfather gave a significant cough then turned to Misaki. "Don't worry about who will look after your children if you keep your job; Grandmother has already decided that she and I will come to help out."

Misaki's concerned expression turned to one of acute embarrassment. Rather than protest the idea of children, as Hei had expected, she said, "You will? That's too generous - you don't have to -"

Grandfather merely waved his hand. "It's no less than An would have us do. My daughter was very passionate about helping others. She went back to work not long after Xing was born; she said it was too self-indulgent to be sitting around at home when she had a mother and sister-in-law to help her take care of the children, and so many patients in the hospital who had no help at all."

"She sounds like a wonderful person," Misaki said, smiling sadly. "I wish I could have met her. Just like I wish that Hei could have met my mother."

"It must have been hard for you, losing her so young."

"It was. I still miss her, every day. But all I can do is remember her, and keep moving on with my life."

"Yes; that is all any of us can do, isn't it."

"Hei told me that his mother was an amazing wushu performer?"

Grandfather chuckled. "She was. A very natural talent, and did quite well in competitions. She disliked sparring though, thought it was too violent. A trait she passed down to her son."

They both smiled at Hei; he coughed into his napkin. "I don't think it's too violent," he protested. "I just…don't like it as much as  _taolu_."

"I have to say, your fighting style has improved quite a bit, Tian," Uncle said. He was focusing on scooping up the last of the rice, rather than meet Hei's eyes. "Your form has suffered of course; that's bound to happen if you're focusing on aikido instead of traditional wushu. But you don't hesitate anywhere near as much as you used to."

Jiang laughed, clearly relieved at the shift in conversation. "Yeah, but he still apologizes whenever he hits someone! You apologize to everyone you arrest, too?"

Despite his cousin's outward good humor, Hei thought there was an edge to his laugh. "Of course not," he said, rubbing the back of his head.

"You apologized to that Korean jewel thief you arrested," Misaki said with a sly smile; Jiang practically spit out his tea.

"I was just trying to put him off his guard! You know, the whole good cop…thing?"

"Hei, that only works in movies."

"Well, he was a contractor. It works on them, when you don't respond with the human emotion that they're expecting."

"Whoa, wait, you've actually arrested a contractor?" Jiang leaned forward, his eyes shining. "What was his superpower?"

Hei shrugged. "This guy? He could phase through solid objects."

"Fucking awesome - not very dangerous though." Jiang sounded almost disappointed.

"Sure, until he phases his hand through your chest and rips out your heart."

"Whoa, shit, really? Did you see him do that?"

"No," Hei lied. "But it would have been possible."

"It must be fucking hard to catch these guys though, huh."

"Some of them, yeah; depending on their ability we have to get kind of creative sometimes."

"Wouldn't it be easier just to shoot them?"

Hei sensed Misaki stiffen beside him. "Lethal force is always a last resort," she said, with some help from Hei with the translation. "They're still people, who have the same right to live as the rest of us."

"Yeah, but what if they're like, really dangerous, and you can't catch them?"

"If they're endangering innocent lives, then yes; I'll authorize the use of lethal force."

"Whoa, you mean  _you_ _'re_ the one who decides if the police can shoot them?" Jiang was staring at her partly in awe, and partly in disbelief. "Tian, have you ever shot a contractor?"

"Jiang, what kind of question is that?" Grandfather said sharply.

"What? It's his job, isn't it? But come on, it's Tian - can you actually see him shooting anyone?"

"I've never had to shoot a contractor I was trying to arrest," Hei said, focusing on his food. Beneath the table, Misaki pressed her leg up against his. "But I would, if it was to protect other people."

Jiang snorted. "Yeah, right. You'd just ask them to stop hurting people, pretty please." He turned to Misaki and gestured with his chopsticks. "You carry a gun even to dinner - I bet you've shot someone, huh?"

"I killed a contractor three weeks ago," Misaki said. Her voice was even, but Hei recognized the tone; she wanted desperately to change the subject.

"Whoa, no way! Was he attacking someone?"

"He was recklessly endangering the public. Hei had almost caught him, but he hit his head during the fight. The contractor would have killed him if I hadn't shot him."

"You hit your head?" Grandfather asked, his voice full of concern. "Are you alright?"

Hei rubbed the red scar on his forehead. "I'm fine. Just a concussion."

"That was when he proposed to me, by the way," Misaki said. "Standing over the dead body of a contractor."

Jiang burst out laughing. "Fucking smooth, man!"

"I had a concussion!" Hei protested. "I did it properly afterwards…"

Misaki smiled at him. "Yes, you did."

"I hardly think the dinner table is the place to talk about these things," Uncle said with a shake of his head. "Tian, are you sure this is the career that you want, especially for someone like you - chasing after these dangerous monsters?"

Misaki answered before Hei had a chance to open his mouth. "Contractors aren't monsters," she said. "They can be dangerous, yes, but so can normal humans."

Uncle eyed her. "So you'd let one just walk down the street, without trying to arrest them?"

"Arrest them for what? Being a contractor isn't illegal. Yet, anyway - and won't be, if I have my way."

"Anyway, it's impossible to tell the difference between a human and a contractor," Hei added.

"I had heard that the Japanese are very pro-contractor," Grandfather said mildly.

"We're not pro-contractor so much as we're anti…injustice, I guess?" Misaki said. "It's not their fault that they are what they are. I've chased down a lot of contractors who were dangerous murderers, of course; and I've also worked alongside quite a few that were just trying to do their jobs."

"Worked alongside?" Uncle frowned. "You mean you would trust someone like that? Someone without a single shred of dignity or morals?"

"Yes. I'd even hire one for my own team."

"But how could you ever trust them not to turn on you? Everything I've ever heard says that contractors are vicious thugs who would betray you at the drop of a hat."

"So would a lot of people," Misaki said calmly. "There's a lot of misinformation about contractors out there; I'm trying to change that."

"Yeah, but you wouldn't trust someone like that Black Snake bastard, right?" Jiang put in. "The contractor in that video? He was a fucking badass, but damn - murdering those guards in cold blood like that? Only one even got close to hitting him! You'd  _have_  to shoot him."

Uncle nodded. "Cold-hearted killers like that don't deserve to exist in this world."

Hei could feel his expression growing stonier, into the featureless mask of a contractor who buried his emotions deep down. He wanted to crawl under the table, flee from the restaurant - anything to escape Grandfather's silent, contemplative gaze.

Misaki's voice had a definite chill to it when she said, "I would trust someone like that, actually. If I understood his motivations, and he could prove to me that he could keep his word."

Uncle shook his head. "This is why women have so much trouble in leadership positions; this sort of thing calls for a rational analysis, not decisions made with emotion."

Misaki's eyes narrowed; Hei cut in hurriedly. "She's right, though. Contractors are pretty predictable. As long as you know what will keep one loyal, they  _will_  be loyal. And more and more these days, they're finding their own values to follow."

"Well,  _you_  would know all about contractors," Uncle said bitterly.

Hei blinked. "What do you mean?"

"It was a contractor who killed your parents, right?"

It was like he'd just been punched in the gut. He could hardly breathe despite the pounding of his heart.

"After the existence of those monsters was made public last year, it was obvious. How else could An and Xingkun both have died, without a mark on them?"

Jiang had gone completely silent. Grandfather frowned and said, "Hong, we don't need to talk about this now."

"Then when  _will_  we talk about it? You never want to say a word; we can't know what happened, so why try to figure it out? All you wanted to talk about was how Tian and Xing must still be alive - I didn't believe it, but well, you were right. And here Tian is, with all the answers we've been looking for - and you  _still_  don't want to talk about it!"

"Tian and Xing  _are_  alive; that's all that matters now."

"I don't have any answers," Hei said quietly. He'd never heard his uncle speak to Grandfather this way, and it made him distinctly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."

"But it  _was_  a contractor who killed them - you and Xing saw it?" Uncle demanded.

"Yes."

"Why? What threat could my sister possibly have been - why kill her?"

Hei shrugged. "There wasn't a reason. It was just…bad luck."

"Bad luck," Uncle repeated. "One of those monsters broke into your house and killed your parents, and it was just bad luck."

Hei didn't answer. Misaki reached over and gripped his hand beneath the table.

"And what about you and Xing? You saw this, but the contractor didn't kill you too? So what  _did_ happen - did the police take you, to keep you quiet?"

There was an undeniable note of accusation in his tone; Hei knew that a lie along those lines wasn't going to work.

He took a deep breath and said, "No. We left."

"You left. You  _left_ , with your parents dead on the floor, and the rest of your family thinking that  _you_  were dead as well."

"It was the only way to keep Xing safe…"

"Your family are the ones who keep you safe! You should have come to us. Instead you ran away like a frightened child, and dragged your poor sister after you! And where is  _she_  now - why are you so ashamed to say a word about her?"

"Xing is her own person, who makes her own decisions," Hei said, dully repeating the words that his therapist had gone through with him so many times.

Uncle pointed a finger directly at Hei. " _You_  are her older brother - you were supposed to protect her! Instead you ran away, left her god knows where, and changed your name to start a new life in a foreign country. Just left your family behind like we don't even exist; and now you want to come back and pretend like none of that happened? I can't believe my poor sister could ever have raised such a selfish child."

_Clang!_

All heads turned to Misaki, who had just thrown her napkin down onto her plate. "That's enough!" she said, in the same voice that she reserved for uncooperative contractors. "I can't sit here and listen to this. You have no idea -  _no idea_  - what he went through to keep his sister safe. And all of you, too! And you dare to - to -" she broke off, struggling to find the words in Mandarin.

" _I_ _'m sorry, Hei, I can't do this. I can't listen to him talk to you like that. You shouldn't have to listen to it either! I - I just need some air."_

She stood abruptly, her expression stormy, and stalked out of the restaurant.

He watched her go, pain lancing through his chest. Then he stood as well.

"Running away again?" Uncle asked coldly.

"I think we all need a break," Hei said. He pulled enough cash from his wallet to cover the bill and tossed it onto the table.

"Tian…" Grandfather began, but Hei shook his head, unable to meet the old man's gaze.

"I'll see you at the match tomorrow. Maybe." Then he followed Misaki out into the night.


	14. Chapter 14

He found Misaki just inside the entrance to the parking garage, leaning up against a grimy concrete pillar. Her arms were folded as she stared into the middle distance - a posture that he had seen her in so many times at their clandestine meetings while he'd still been working for the Syndicate. If not for the dress, she  _could_  have been that same Misaki, waiting impatiently for his update.

Instead of that usual look of impatience though, now her expression betrayed her evident frustration.

"Hey," he said, careful not to sneak up on her this time.

Misaki didn't look up. "I'm sorry; you didn't have to follow me out. I just needed a minute."

Hei leaned against the pillar beside her, shoulder touching hers. "It's okay. It's not just you."

"It's  _not_  okay - I shouldn't have let myself get upset like that."

"I forgot my family was so traditional; I should have warned you to expect those kind of questions."

Misaki snorted. "Like I've never heard  _those_  questions before. I can handle them. But I shouldn't have said what I did; it wasn't fair to put you in that position. I just - it just made me so  _angry_. For your uncle to accuse you like that, when he knows nothing about what you've had to go through, how hard you've had to fight! And your cousin - I get  _those_  questions all the time too, but couldn't he see how upsetting it was for you?"

"Jiang's never been all that observant," Hei shrugged. "And honestly, you're the only one who can read me like that."

"That doesn't excuse your uncle," Misaki muttered.

"I don't know. I can't really blame him for being upset."

"What? Of course you can! If he only knew what happened -"

"It would be even worse." He sighed. "I knew they would want to know everything about why I left, and where Xing is. Maybe it was too soon for me to try and come back home."

"He still doesn't have the right to demand answers from you like that!"

"Maybe. But if it were me, and I'd been waiting twelve years to find out exactly what had happened to  _my_  sister, and I finally found someone who knew…I wouldn't have stopped at simple demands," Hei said quietly.

Misaki tucked her arm under his and leaned against him. "That's different. You're his family - and you were hurt even worse by what happened. He ought to know that you would have done everything that you could for your sister. It's not like - I'm sorry, but it's not like knowing any more about what happened will change anything. None of it was your fault. He should be happy to finally see you again, and just let you talk in your own time instead of pushing like that."

"What if I never want to talk?"

"Then they'll just have to deal with that."

Hei hesitated. "Part of me wants to say that too," he said. "But …they have a right to know, don't they? And they'll still ask questions. The longer I go without answering, the worse it'll get. How long will they put up with me keeping quiet?"

"Well, obviously not long, in your uncle's case. But if they want to keep you in their lives, they'll learn to wait. Your grandfather will wait forever."

"You don't know that," Hei said quietly. Just because Grandfather had yet to ask him about what had happened twelve years ago didn't mean that he didn't have the same questions as Uncle. If he ever asked Hei directly…Hei had never been able to lie to the old man. He would talk, and then it would be over. There was no way Grandfather would still welcome him back once he knew the truth.

"Of course I do."

"How?"

She met his frown with a warm smile. "Because he's exactly like you."

"Like…what?"

"Well, I suppose I should say that you're exactly like him," Misaki continued, oblivious to his incomprehension. "I used to think that there couldn't be another person in the world with the same kind of loving patience that you have - but now I know where you learned it from."

"I'm not like him," Hei protested. "I'm  _nothing_  like him. Maybe he's patient; but once he knows - about me - Grandfather  _hates_  violence. The things I had to do to protect Xing - the things that  _Xing_  did - he won't accept that. He can't."

"I'm not saying that he would be happy about it; but I think he'd understand the choices that you made. And that won't stop him from loving you."

Hei didn't answer. He'd always trusted Misaki's judgment about people, but she was wrong. Uncle had said it himself: the Black Reaper was a cold-hearted killer who didn't belong in this world. Hei might no longer be working as an assassin, but that violence was still in him. It would always be in him.

"You never gave up on your sister. Even though she had changed far more than you ever could."

"That was different. She was my  _sister_  -"

"And you're his only daughter's son. Do you really think your grandfather would ever give up on you?"

"An idiot who thought he could save a contractor by becoming one?"

"But she did change, didn't she? Because of you? You did save her, in a way."

"At what cost?" Hei asked quietly.

Misaki didn't answer; they'd had this argument many times before. Instead she merely leaned against him, her presence doing more to remind him of his humanity than words ever could.

They stayed like that for long minutes, ignoring the traffic coming and going in the small parking garage.

At last Misaki rubbed his arm, and took a deep breath. "I think I'm okay to go back in now. Are you ready?"

He hesitated. "Is it…is it running away if we go home instead?"

"Of course it's not running away! There's nothing wrong with needing a break, after getting blindsided like this. I can't even imagine all the emotion you must have had to go through in just the past day. It's okay to take some time." She bit her lip. "It's not - I mean, it's not because of me though, is it? What I said? I didn't -"

"I'm glad you said that."

"You are? But I probably made things so much worse…"

"Misaki, no one's ever defended me like that before. I needed to hear that." He gave her a brief kiss, reminding himself once again that no matter what happened with his family, he would always have her. "Come on; let's go home."

~~~~o~~~~

Hei's eyes snapped open at a faint buzzing sound. Beside him, Misaki murmured something incomprehensible.

"It's mine," he told her with a tired sigh. "Go back to sleep."

He lifted his phone from the bedside table and glanced at the screen, painfully bright in the dark bedroom. He wasn't surprised to see that it was only two in the morning; his mind had been too restless to allow him to sink into a real sleep, and none of his mental relaxation techniques had worked. Still, he wasn't sure who would be texting him this late.

Opening the message, he read:  _Get your ass down here._

The phone buzzed in his hand as a second message appeared:  _Dumbass_.

"What is it?" Misaki asked, her face pressed into the pillow.

"Jiang. He wants to talk."

Hei lay back, the phone clasped in his hand. He wanted to ignore the message, pretend like the past day had never happened.

"Now? It's so late…"

"Yeah." Hei couldn't help a small, tired smile. "The middle of the night was when we'd sneak out to fight…but it was when we talked, too." He sighed. "If I go, it'll feel too…normal. Like things used to be. And they aren't like that anymore."

That evening had been a stark reminder of that. No matter how good it had felt to train with his cousin again, to walk through the park with Grandfather - it had been a lie. And lying wasn't something you did to your own family.

"Take your knives with you; it's not safe at night," Misaki told the pillow.

Hei stared up at the ceiling, indecision knotting in his stomach. "You think I should go? I can't…I can't keep pretending like everything's fine. That's what Jiang wants. He wants me to be the same Tian that I was twelve years ago, like nothing's changed. I can't do that. But I can't tell him what really happened, either."

Still…if he couldn't talk to Jiang, then who  _could_  he talk to? At least Jiang still wanted to talk, after that disastrous dinner.

In his old life, on nights like this when he hadn't been able to sleep, he would go for a long walk in the silent city - whatever city that may have been. And if that didn't help, he would break into a gym where he could punch and kick until he nearly dropped from exhaustion.

That familiar feeling was creeping over him now; that frustration with sitting still, the desire to get up and  _do_  something, anything, to distract his mind from the painful resurfacing of old memories.

"And don't forget the potatoes."

"The…"

Hei glanced over at Misaki; sure enough, the one eye that he could see over the folds of the pillow was shut. Early in their relationship he'd had many late-night conversations that had turned out to be purely one-sided, before he learned that if her eyes weren't open, she wasn't awake, no matter how lucid she sounded. He'd never known anyone could possibly sleep that deeply before.

"I won't forget the potatoes," he told her; her only response was a soft snore.

Hei watched her fondly for a long moment. Then with a weary sigh, he got out of bed. It wasn't like he was going to get any sleep anyway. He might as well go.

~~~~o~~~~

There was no one at the front desk when he walked in through the main doors of the hotel. Which was just as well.

He hadn't brought his knives - regardless of what Misaki's sleeping brain thought, that was a little unnecessary - but he had given in to his impulse to grab the black turtleneck and black athletic pants that he wore on stakeouts and nighttime patrols. It had allowed him to slip with ease across the sleeping Shinjuku without once being spotted; but here, under the warm lights of the hotel lobby, he felt overly conspicuous.

Jiang hadn't specified where to meet; Hei didn't even know which room number was his. But he had a pretty good guess where he'd find his cousin. In any case, he wasn't about to knock on Grandfather and Uncle's door.

Instead of heading to the elevators, he turned and went down the stairs to the conference center area and the glass doors that opened to Yoyogi park. On the left was the entrance to the arena access tunnel. Jiang was sitting in front of the door, eyes closed. He wore black track pants and a gray T-shirt; a black backpack was on the floor next to him.

"Hey."

His cousin gave a visible start, his eyes snapping open. In his cotton-soled shoes, Hei would've had to make a conscious effort for his footsteps to be heard. And he hadn't felt like bothering.

"What's with the ninja outfit?" Jiang asked, narrowing his eyes. "And why the hell didn't you answer my text? I told you about the new rules."

"I didn't think I needed to answer, since I was coming here anyway."

"And what if you got jumped on your way here? Dumbass."

 _Not likely_ , Hei thought. Even without his knives, he could walk with the comfortable knowledge that the most dangerous thing in the city was probably  _him_.

"I thought you'd be in the training room," he said, ignoring the comment.

Jiang banged on the door behind his back. "Fuckers locked it; my key doesn't work."

Hei glanced around, considering their options as that itch to fight niggled at the back of his brain.

"We could try the park I guess," Jiang said, following his gaze.

"There's a regular patrol that goes through the park; I don't have my badge on me, and I don't want to have to explain anything."

"Think we could break down the door - take the hinges off or something?"

Hei gave him a look, and his cousin snorted. "Right. I forgot I was talking to Officer Goody-Goody."

"There's a security camera right there," Hei said in exasperation, gesturing over his shoulder with a nod, "and at least three electronic keypads between us and the training room, with cameras the whole way. There isn't any security  _in_  the gym, though. Come on."

Jiang raised an eyebrow at him; when Hei didn't explain, he grabbed his bag and followed him out the doors.

Only the edges of Yoyogi park were lit at this time of night, the network of trails that wound through it dark and shadowed. Hei led Jiang around the outskirts, instinctively staying out of each pool of yellow light.

"Shit, I can hardly see you," Jiang grumbled, crashing through a bush. "Slow down."

"There's hardly any undergrowth here," Hei shot back in a dead whisper. "What are you even running into?"

"Shut up, asshole."

They reached the broad avenue that separated the park from the stadium without incident; traffic was so light now that they darted across easily.

The arena grounds were separated from the street by a shoulder-high stone wall. Rising behind the wall was a steep embankment covered in ornamental hedges with the occasional elm tree; at the top of the rise was yet another stone wall, about six feet high. Hei and Jiang strode down the sidewalk along the wall, Hei walking casually, hands in his pockets and staring straight ahead, while Jiang skulked along furtively beside him.

"Here," Hei said abruptly. They'd reached a place that was in the shadow between two streetlights and out of direct line of sight from the surrounding buildings. He paused to let a lone car drive past; then darted up and over the stone wall.

"This is worse than that damn park," Jiang griped, landing in the shrubs beside Hei. "How the hell do we get up to the top?"

Hei didn't answer. Instead he dropped to his stomach and, using the dim light filtering down from above, crawled between the trunks of the bushes.

"Are you shitting me," Jiang muttered. He gave a sigh, then sank down to the ground as well and followed.

It didn't take long to reach the wall at the top of the rise, despite Jiang's constant grumbling. They both scaled it easily and dropped down to an empty parking lot on the other side. A tall chain link fence separated the parking lot from the building itself, about forty yards away.

This was where they'd have to be careful; Hei didn't know if there was a regular security patrol here, or how often it made rounds. Keeping his back to the wall, he stalked along the perimeter.

It felt strangely satisfying to be breaking into private property in the middle of the night. He'd spent the past twenty-four hours completely unbalanced, being hit with one emotional blow after another, struggling to find a common ground between his twelve-year-old self - the boy that his family had known and still expected him to be - and his current reality.

Here, though, he was in his element.  _This_  was what he was good at; this was where he thrived. He was in control of the situation now.

A blinking orange light appeared around the edge of the arena, on the inside of the chain link fence - a security detail in a golf cart. Hei reflexively flattened himself against the wall. Jiang nearly plowed him into him; then after a moment, did the same. Hei hoped that his cousin's gray shirt was dark enough that it wouldn't stand out.

Either the shirt  _was_  camouflaged enough, or else the security guard lax in his scan of the perimeter; regardless, the cart passed by without incident.

Hei exhaled slowly, regulating his adrenaline; then as soon as the cart had continued on out of sight, he made a dash for the fence.

The fence was about eight feet high and topped with barbed wire. Without pausing, Hei leapt onto the chainlink, climbed easily over the barbs, and dropped lightly to the ground on the other side.

Jiang eyed him for a moment; then without a word he followed suit. He navigated the barbed wire with a little less grace than Hei had, but still with a familiarity that, in retrospect, didn't really surprise him.

They trotted along the curving outer wall of the arena, following the direction that the golf cart had gone. Hei counted the high rectangular windows as they passed.

"We have about fifteen minutes until the security patrol comes back," he whispered to Jiang. That was an eternity in a simple B&E job.

"Only fifteen? How do you know?"

 _Based on the size of the premises, the rate at which the cart had been traveling, the security of the building in general_ … "Just a guess," Hei said. "It's this one."

He stopped under one of the windows, exactly identical to all the others in the long wall.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Hei took a step back, studying it. A horizontal casement window; easy enough to climb through if they could get it open. There was nothing in the immediate area that they could use to climb up to it, but it wasn't too high to reach by jumping.

"Right. Then let's open up this fucker."

Hei turned just in time to see Jiang winding up his arm, a chuck of concrete clutched in his fingers. Lunging forward, he caught his cousin's wrist before he could throw.

"Someone will hear!" he hissed.

"They might not - that guard's on the other side of the building!" Jiang hissed back.

"And they'll see the broken glass as soon as they come back around."

"Only if he's paying attention - these rent-a-cops never do."

"Well, sure; but it's not worth the risk."

"It's not worth wasting the time, either!"

"This is exactly why we got banned from the movie theater," Hei muttered. "You have to think strategically - mitigate as much risk as possible. It only takes a few extra seconds."

"And  _that_ _'s_  exactly how we ended up getting chased by Mr. Ding's fucking bastard of a mutt," Jiang shot back. "Because  _you_  wanted to sit down and figure out the best place to climb the fence, instead of just running like I told you to! I still have the goddamn scar on my leg!"

"Because you didn't wait for me and just charged in."

Hei had forgotten about that little episode. It hadn't been anyone's fault that Jiang had been bit by the dog - they'd just been trying to get Jiao-tu's kite back - but Hei had still spent weeks wracked by guilt over it.

"It's a good way to get arrested," he continued. "Something I haven't managed to do yet, and I'm not about to start."

He couldn't help feeling a small twinge of pride at that; nor did he miss the flash of guilt in his cousin's expression.

"Then how the hell are we supposed to get in?" Jiang snapped, hefting the chunk of concrete.

"I just have to disengage the roto operator. Hang on."

"You what?"

Hei didn't answer. He jumped, gripped the edge of the window sill, and pulled himself up. The window was set back into the wall a mere inch and a half, but it was more than enough room for Hei to brace himself in place sideways with his toes and shoulder, his core muscles keeping him precariously balanced.

He removed a short, flat piece of metal from his waistband - knives were optional, but he never wandered the city at night without his lockpicking tools - and slipped it between the window frame and the sill.

In less than twenty seconds, he had popped the thin rod that allowed the window to be cranked open from the rotary mechanism and pushed on the glass. The hinges were set into the top; the window opened inwards with the faintest of creaks. Forty-five degrees left just enough space for a person to drop down into the room on the other side.

"They teach you that in the police?" Jiang asked, eying him.

"No," was all Hei said before slipping inside.

Jiang followed a moment later; he had the strength to haul himself up and over, but not quite the dexterity to do it prettily. He landed on the floor with a stumble and a curse, his backpack clinking.

"Huh, you really did guess the right window," Jiang said, glancing around the dimly lit training gym.

Hei used a stack of blue mats to the left of the casement to climb up and shut it - no use advertising the fact that they were there, rent-a-cop or not. "Of course I did. I pay attention."

"Yeah, yeah - it's not going to stop you from getting your ass kicked, bastard."

Without warning, Jiang aimed a roundhouse kick directly at Hei's center mass; Hei had been expecting it, however, and parried with his own kick, followed by a pivot and a sharp elbow strike to the chest. Jiang barely managed to block in time.

They broke apart; Jiang narrowed his eyes. "Since when do you go on the offensive so early?"

Hei didn't answer. Instead he waited with the deadly stillness that he'd learned in Heaven's War.

Jiang grinned. Then he launched himself into a new attack.

Hei had never held back during their midnight fights as boys. He hadn't needed to; he and Jiang were so evenly matched that he rarely had to worry about hurting his cousin accidentally. Now he threw everything he had into the fight, something that he hadn't had a chance to do since the Syndicate.

Jiang quickly abandoned the pure wushu style of sparring for far wilder, more dangerous street brawler moves. Hei wasn't sure whether he was trying to get an edge on him, or merely to keep up; neither of them had managed to land any hits in the flurry of moves.

He adapted fluidly and let his instinct take over by throwing in a mix of Muy Thai and karate and all of the other styles that he'd picked up during his days as an operative. Once or twice he had to check himself lest he deliver a blow that would do serious damage; Jiang would take immediate advantage of the opening and the tide would shift in the opposite direction.

For the first time in a long, long time, he felt the pure joy of the fight wash over him. He could almost believe that he was home again.

Jiang lashed out with another kick. Hei flipped backwards to avoid it, but his energy was finally flagging. He landed on his toes,  _just_  off balance. Jiang saw it, and lunged forward with a palm strike that would end the fight.

 _Would have_  ended the fight - if Hei hadn't grabbed his wrist and let his own momentum carry him backwards. He drove his knee into Jiang's ribs as they fell, flipping him over his head. Jiang landed with a hard  _oof_  on his back even as Hei collapsed onto the mat himself.

They lay there, head to head, gasping for breath for long moments. Then Jiang let out a barking laugh.

"Fuck, you nearly broke my ribs! What the hell kind of move was that?"

He wouldn't be laughing if he was truly hurt, Hei had to remind himself. "It's from jiu jitsu, I think. I don't really remember."

"Shit. That's cheating."

"I don't remember Grandfather teaching us to throat punch," Hei shot back, massaging his collarbone where Jiang's strike had landed, missing his actual throat by a hair's breadth.

"Yeah, well, I don't remember  _you_  ever fighting like you were actually trying to win. I thought you were fucking trying to kill me a couple times."

Hei didn't answer. He stared up into the gloom of the unlit rafters.

Jiang heaved a heavy sigh. Hei heard him roll to his feet; then a hand appeared above him, palm up. He hesitated for only a moment before grasping it and rising to his feet as well.

His cousin crossed the floor to the wall beneath the window where he'd left his backpack and sank down against the concrete. Opening the bag, he pulled out a six-pack of beer.

"I couldn't find any Tsingtao," he said, holding out a can for Hei. "This Japanese shit'll have to do."

Hei slid down to sit beside Jiang. "Don't you have a match tomorrow?"

"Don't be a fucking pussy and take the goddamn beer."

Hei took the can without a word.

Jiang took a long swig of his own beer. They sat in silence for several long minutes. Eventually Jiang said, "I tried calling Song again tonight. She still won't fucking answer. Just sent me a text saying that she doesn't want to talk."

"I guess she doesn't want to talk?"

"Asshole. I know that! But how the hell am I supposed to apologize for whatever shit she's upset about if she won't talk to me!"

"You don't even know why she's angry?"

"I mean…I could probably guess." Jiang took another long draught and added, "It  _might_  have something to do with me calling her to bail me out of jail after a fight. But I told her I was sorry! It wasn't like I could call my parents! And 'Tu would've just given me a fucking sermon."

"Did you also tell her that you wouldn't do it again?" Hei asked, already knowing the answer to the question.

Jiang gave a derisive snort. "You don't lie to the people you care about, right? Grandfather taught us that much at least."

Instead of answering, Hei finally opened his beer and took a small swallow. It was sour and hoppy, and reminded him viscerally of the benders that the Syndicate had put him through order to train him to function while severely impaired.

"It was always easier for you," Jiang continued, staring out into the empty gym. "You fucking  _died_ , and now here you are with a perfect life and a perfect fiancee. I bet you two never ever fight."

"We fight."

Jiang had seen his scars; he had to know that Hei's life had been far from perfect. He was fishing, but Hei was too afraid to rise to the bait.

"Yeah, right - I bet she just gives you an order you roll right over."

"Well, yeah. Actually, that's what our first big fight was about."

"You didn't roll fast enough?"

Hei sighed. "When we were first dating, I let her make all the decisions. What we did on the weekends, where we went to eat. Anything she asked my opinion for I just said I didn't mind whatever she wanted to do. I noticed that she was getting more and more frustrated, but I couldn't figure out why. Then one night I was making curry for dinner, and she commented that we'd had it earlier in the week. So I told her that I'd make something else if she wanted - and she blew up. Shouted at me to just  _make the goddamn curry_  and stormed out."

"Chicks, man." Jiang shook his head, cracking open his second can. "They're all fucking crazy."

"Nah. It took me a while, but I figured out what was wrong.  _After_  I asked her how I could help fix whatever was bothering her."

"So what was it."

Hei shrugged. "Misaki spends all day making decisions; some of them life or death. Then she has to come home and decide everything, even something as small as what to have for dinner? It wasn't fair to her. I really  _was_  happy with whatever she decided, but it looked to her like I just didn't care. And…I was a little afraid that if I pushed my opinions too much, she'd leave. Misaki is the best thing that's ever happened to me. I don't want to lose her. But keeping quiet like that was only making it worse."

"So what, now you argue with her all the time and she's happy?"

"No. I just give my opinion more often and take some of that burden off of her. And yeah, we're happy."

Jiang leaned his head against the wall. "You make it sound fucking easy."

"It's not. But it's worth it, right?"

"Yeah. Maybe. Or maybe Song really is done with me this time."

"Maybe she just needs a break. You know. Space to think?"

Jiang didn't answer. A long silence stretched away as he finished off his beer. At last he said quietly, "You  _are_  coming to the match tomorrow, right?"

"I don't know."

"Look, my dad's a dick sometimes; you know that. He didn't mean -"

"What did he mean, then? He had all day to think about what to say, and that's what he said."  _And he wasn_ _'t wrong._

"Grandfather was pissed; they argued all the way back to the hotel. They were still arguing when I bailed to go meet up with some of the guys. They haven't gone at it like that since the first time I got a police escort home." He paused, swirling the beer in the can. "No one ever yelled at  _me_  for that - just each other."

"Grandfather and Uncle never fight…" Hei began.

"Yeah, well. Things changed after you disappeared."

The guilt in his stomach was more sour than the beer. "I had to leave," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Fucking  _why,_  though? You let us all think you were  _dead_  - Xing too. You can't just show up again and pretend like nothing happened!"

Hei stared off into the depths of the dark gym, wishing that he could just disappear into the shadows.

"Your girl knows all about it, right? You can talk to her, but you can't talk to us? We used to be brothers, man," Jiang added quietly, as if all the fight had drained out of him. "Why didn't you come home - what the hell've you been doing all these years?"

A long, empty silence stretched out between them.

At last Hei said dully, "I'm a world-class assassin. I've been killing people."


End file.
